


Are you saying I don't know a pretty boy when I see one?

by mariamegale



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: 'lets fuck some self love into joe', (Laura says:, Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Worship, Communications galore, Crying During Sex, Dom Eugene, Dom Webster, Eugene is a total school teacher of kink in this I am so sorry, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, Kink mentorship, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Minor Angst, Modern Era, Partner Lending, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Solving Issues Through Kink, Sub Babe, Sub Liebgott, Threesome - M/M/M, also, and also preferably in a puppy pile., babe is a very soft boy who wants his friends to be happy, dom/sub dynamics, eugene has a consent kink the size of greenland, even tho he doesn't make an actual appearance, soft domming, which is accurate)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26012770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariamegale/pseuds/mariamegale
Summary: “What I’m thinking is this — and again, Joe knows we’re having this conversation,” David says. Eugene can't help but wonder just how elaborate this talk between the two of them had been, very curious about what exactly has been going on behind the Webster-Liebgott scenes. “There are some things that Joe wants, that he needs, for lack of a better word. And this is me, checking with you to see if you think that maybe, you and Babe would be interested in perhaps… Giving him a space to explore that.”“As in, doing a scene together?” Eugene asks, just to get it officially out there. David nods, and the increasingly interested thing in Gene's chest is definitely paying attention to this turn of events. “And I’m assuming that you… Wouldn’t be there?”“Yes.”“And the… Crying… Thing, is part of it too?” Gene asks, watching David huff out a laugh and rub his hand over his face.“I’m sorry for leading with that, God, that was probably not the best way to start this conversation off,” he groans, laughing when Gene laughs with him."It's okay. We're here now, and I really don't mind. If Joe needs some taking care of, our way, we're happy to take him in for a little."
Relationships: Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe, Joseph Liebgott/David Kenyon Webster, Joseph Liebgott/Eugene Roe/Babe Heffron
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gottapenny (dickjokesanddoilies)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickjokesanddoilies/gifts).



> HOO BOY okay this is finally done, yay
> 
> Quick start note: This is one story, but split into three chapters for practicality. If you're only interested in the smut and not the specific webgott & baberoe dynamics of this, go ahead and hop right into chapter two, and you'll get straight to the action. You should be good to go. 
> 
> We do not judge people who skip to chapter two, we do not judge me for informing them of chapter two. This is a shame-free zone.
> 
> Now I want to take a minute to send a massive thank-you and shoutout to my Beta [Anthrobrat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthrobrat), without whom this would not exist. Seriously, the hours she has spent in my Google Docs talking me through freakouts over characterisation, pointing out wonky sentences and helping me with translation errors -- unmatched. She got me through this even tho I wanted to give up, with patience and professionalism and incredible encouragement. She is an absolute gift, and I cannot tell you, Laura, how much your support has meant to me. Betas are the unsung heroes of fanfic, and she is mine <3 
> 
> Now, I hope you all enjoy and I'll (hopefully) see you in the end notes! <3

It starts off by accident. 

They’re at Web and Liebgott’s apartment, getting ready for a night out, because Babe and Joe never go to the club unless they’re decked out in either some kind of disco ball rainbow extravaganza (in Babe’s case) or a 2008 emo vampire fantasy (in Lieb’s case). Unfortunately for them, due to the curse of having a normcore/oxford chic boyfriend duo, they both independently feel like their tastes are not appreciated enough under normal circumstances.

(Eugene doesn’t understand what “normcore” even means. The three of them had tried explaining it to him once, but it hadn’t gone great.

_“So it’s just… normal clothes?”_

_“Normal clothes for people who are being deliberately normal.”_

_“I just like my clothes to be practical.”_

_“Eugene, you’re like a fucking cartoon. Stop buying dark green shirts.”_

_“Why? I like them.”_

_“You already have seventeen. You don’t need more.”_

_“So I like them a lo—“_

_“He has seventeen of those? Oh my god, Babe, get your dresses out of the apartment because I’m gonna come over and burn his fucking closet to the ground, I swear to God—_ ”

It had not been a productive conversation.)

Anyway. Forcing Eugene and David to sit on Liebgott’s black leather sofa, talking news or something like the fucking nerds they are, while Babe and Joe blabber on about the merits of different types of glitter, it is.

Babe has brought no less than three vials of the good, biodegradable stuff, while Joe has busted out his full arsenal of eyelash glue to make sure the shit sticks all night long. They’re giggling and bouncing in and out of the bathroom to the beat of whatever weird techno Lieb is into at the moment, Gene and David fondly watching them over the rims of their pre-party drinks.

Eugene is just enjoying watching Babe have a good time, while David has something decidedly more soft in his eyes. It grows every time Joe half-cackles at something Babe says or does, which Eugene finds intriguing, to say the least.

Joseph Liebgott is not a sweet kind of guy, to put it lightly. And while Eugene thinks getting to see him this relaxed and giddy in Babe’s presence is a privilege, the fact that Web also seems to find it special sparks a few questions in the back of his mind. 

But this is not the time or place to question the dynamics of the Webster/Liebgott relationship or household, so Gene merely sips his beer and doesn’t comment on the lapses in their conversation whenever David’s eyes go soft at something cutesy Joe does.

At least not until Babe comes skipping out of the bathroom and plops himself down in Eugene’s lap unceremoniously, bumping their noses together with a little giggle.

“What do you think?” Babe asks him through a grin as Eugene wraps his arms around Babe’s waist. “Do I look pretty enough for you to take me home tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Eugene teases, moving one hand to Babe’s chin to tilt his head this way and that under the lights. The white glitter on his cheekbones is almost translucent against Babe’s skin, giving more of an image that it’s Babe himself shimmering like the scales on the back of a fish. “You’re always pretty, _chérie_ , but I do like how I’ll be able to spot you across the room.”

“Eugene,” his boy whines with a roll of his eyes, “I’m not asking you to be sweet, I’m asking you to let me know if I look good enough for you to wanna take me home and fuck me properly tonight.”

Beside them, David lets out a snort that’s only half-embarrassed, and Gene pulls Babe down into a soft kiss before he responds again. “Like I said,” he murmurs, ”you always do. But no, you don’t look good enough to fuck, right now. You look good enough to be worshipped, _mon petit chaton_.” 

On the other side of the room, Joe makes a disgusted noise, and Eugene looks up from Babe’s red cheeks to where Liebgott is making a pretty poor attempt at looking like he hasn’t been watching the two of them intently. He’s fussing over his own hair, eyebrows frowning over thick eyeliner, and Gene can’t help but smile.

“Don’t be like that, Joseph,” Eugene says, amused. “You know if I didn’t have Babe, my eyes would be locked on you, pretty boy.”

Joe’s fingers falter for a second, but he smoothly goes back to twisting the same single strand of hair over his forehead like the specific curl of it will earn him a beauty pageant victory. Eugene raises his eyebrows at the unquestionable pink flush on his cheeks, though, and looks the man up and down slowly.

Okay, so he doesn’t know exactly where he’s going with this, this... Gene wouldn’t call it flirting, exactly, but it’s also not not flirting, the only-almost-teasing little compliments he keeps shooting Joe. 

How many weeks has it been since Webster first approached Gene with… Whatever you’d call the conversation? Is it more like months? It probably is, at this point, Gene needs to check his calendar.

What had happened was that one day, out of seemingly nowhere, David had asked Eugene to grab lunch with him. It was one of those moments that felt weird, but for reasons Gene had a hard time putting a finger on. 

He was friends with Webster, of course, would never doubt it, but in that way you’re friends with a man your boyfriend is in some kind of semi-platonic, ride-or-die, insane groupchat with. 

Eugene isn’t sure exactly what goes on in that pit of hell, as he stopped questioning the goings-on in the messages Web, Babe and Luz sent each other a long time ago. Probably around the weird era where Babe would bring his phone with him to the bathroom for long intervals.

Anyway, Babe and David have a friendship Eugene doesn’t always understand, but that doesn’t mean he won’t support it. However, he still had very little actual contact with Webster that didn’t involve Babe, so Gene wasn’t sure what exactly to expect from it.

Lunch was nice, though. It gave them time to catch up and for Eugene to have a conversation about something serious, like the news, for once, without getting called out for being a grump or a mood-killer by [insert the name of pretty much any other member of their friend group here].

It also gave David some time to relax, which he sorely needed — Gene’s senses were tingling from the second Web sat down in front of him, his smile just a little tight at the edges and his shoulders more tense than just holding a good posture.

So Gene did what he did best, and acted like everything was okay even when it wasn’t, smiled and asked David about his job and working on the book, slowly coaxing the man into something more akin to relaxation. After a comparatively short rant on the relationship between sharks and jellyfish, David paused to take a deep breath in the natural lull of conversation.

“Eugene,” he said, and Gene looked up casually. David had been frowning, biting his lip and taking a few deep breaths, like he was trying to gather courage for something.

“Yes, David?” Gene asked gently in return, trying not to frown despite his own instincts. It must’ve bled into his voice, anyway, because Webster had sighed and looked up with his big, blue eyes, nailing Eugene with a cautious look.

“You and Babe,” is how he’d started, looking very much like he wanted to pause to bite his own lip but instead just powering through, “you’re… You’re into, the, um… The whole BDSM thing, right?”

Eugene had not expected that. Well, to be fair, he hadn’t really expected anything, but especially not this. _It’s really more generally kink than BDSM,_ he thought to himself as he leaned forward over the table, but realised that maybe starting a discussion on semantics wasn’t the best idea right now.

So instead, he went with a casual, “we are, yes. Why?” 

David nodded a few times, darting his eyes out the window for a second. This is when it struck Eugene that he’d never seen a nervous Web before — anxious, yes. Excited, absolutely. Unsure, occasionally. But never a leg-jitteringly nervous Webster. 

“I’m— Look, Gene, if this is— If I’m crossing a line here, tell me. I don’t want to, you know, I don’t know—“ 

It could have been cute, if Eugene didn’t empathise too much with the feeling. He’d just nodded, and smiled, and let David work his way towards whatever it was he wanted to ask.

“Look, Okay. Me and Joe are… Kind of getting into that stuff, too,” Web eventually managed to get out, rubbing a hand over his own face like he had a piece of dust stuck in his eyes. “We have been, for a while. And— Really, if this is not okay, let me know, I’ll never mention it again — And, I know, or I thought, that you and Babe have some more experience in this field, and I was wondering if— Because every now and then we come across some shit that’s… That I, we—“

“That you’d like to talk through with someone?” Eugene said, taking a slow sip of his coffee, his own body language perhaps a little overly relaxed to offset David’s tenseness.

“Yeah, exactly,” David nodded in response, squinting out into the street outside the window again. “Not like, I don’t know. I just feel like, I don’t always know what I’m doing? Like, I trust myself and I trust Joe, I absolutely do, and we have a good thing… Going on, but I just, sometimes, wish I had someone else to talk to about it? Does that make sense?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Gene said, almost feeling his heart go soft at the way Webster’s shoulders finally let go of their tension and his eyes stopped jittering about the whole room.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eugene echoed with a smile, crossing his arms on the table. “I do it all the time. Of course Edward is the first line of communication, always, but every now and then there are things I could use some advice on, that Babe can’t answer, or that I for whatever reason would like to run by someone else first, you know?”

“Yeah,” David had nodded, still frowning, but with a much softer edge to it. “Yeah, just to make sure you’re, like, approaching things from the right angle?”

“Exactly. Or for any other reason, there are no bad questions or worries, David.” Eugene felt himself go into more of a guidance counsellor role than perhaps was required, but if Web felt condescended he’d simply have to let Gene know about it. “Babe does it, too, I know he has a bunch of people he talks to about different stuff. I’d be more than happy to be there, if there’s ever anything you wanna ask about. Or to direct you to some people who can help you out, whatever you’d want—“

“You’re fine,” David blurted out, immediately flushing when it drew a smile out of Eugene. “I mean, not that— If you don’t want to, I didn’t mean to— I don’t want to impose, Gene, I’m so sorry—“

“David, relax, it’s okay, I promise.” This really shouldn’t have been as endearing to Eugene as it was, the sight of David Webster stumbling over his words because he couldn’t figure out a way to make himself sound good. “Look, okay. Think of it this way: What’s rule number one, about these things?”

“Consent,” David replied immediately, like he’d been preparing for a test — and oh God, he probably had, as if Eugene would grill him on this in a fucking café.

“Exactly. And consent is assured through boundaries and communication.” Jesus, he really was going full ‘FAQ’ on this, maybe the teacher-student analogy wasn’t very far away after all. “David, I’m good at establishing and protecting boundaries. If you ever ask me something I can’t or don’t want to answer, I’ll let you know. You won’t have done anything wrong, I promise. I can’t think of anything that would be immediately off-table, so just… Relax, yeah?”

“Yeah,” David had said, letting out a long breath that turned into an exhausted giggle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— I really didn’t want to make this awkward, but I did, didn’t I?”

“You really didn’t,” Eugene responded, taking another sip of his cooling coffee.“I promise you, it’s okay.”

And that had been the start. 

Over the next couple of weeks, Eugene had received occasional phone calls about rope, different kinds of electrolyte drinks, and how to talk about stuff like insults, among other things.

Eventually, David had moved to texts, slowly growing more and more comfortable with the entire concept of talking kink to someone else. Babe had followed the development with a considerable amount of fondness, cuddling up to Eugene at night and humming happily as Gene texted what Babe called “ _his new porn protégée_ ”.

“He’s not really a protégée, Babe,” Gene huffed back at him when he cuddled back after saying good night to Webster and his cotton vs. hemp discussion. “And even if he was, he’s your friend first.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one he went to with this,” Babe had responded with a smile, leaning up for a kiss. “Also, are you saying he’s not a fast learner?”

“Oh, he’s a very fast learner,” Gene murmured between kisses. Running a hand up the length of Babe’s side had earned him a small laugh, but he wasn’t deterred. As platonic as this… Kink friendship? (Eugene had, and continues to have, no idea how to classify this shit) — As platonic as things were between him and David, there were only so many hours one could spend talking about sex without one’s mind beginning to wander.

“Well, you’re a good teacher,” Babe sighed, leaning into the slow kisses Eugene pressed into his neck. “Let me know if you ever need an assistant, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Are you offering to give David lessons?” Gene had laughed, hitching one of Babe’s knees up around his waist. Babe rolled his eyes, using his newfound leverage to roll them over.

“Well, there’s only so far you can get using theory,” he mumbled into Gene’s jaw, tenderly lacing their fingers together. “I’m just saying I’m here for the practical applications.”

It wasn’t that the thought wasn’t intriguing, but then Babe had rolled his hips against Eugene’s, and he’d kind of gotten sidetracked from thinking about David Webster.

Some time later, when Gene was curled up around Babe and halfway asleep, Babe had muttered through a yawn, “besides, of the two of them, Joe’s probably much more fun to play with.” Eugene had snorted, and slowly fallen asleep. 

But of course, the thought burrowed into Eugene’s head and stayed there. It wasn’t a forethought so much as a change in gaze, because Gene was nothing if not respectful of boundaries. Joe and David were fine with Eugene helping Web grow more comfortable in his own Dom-ness, but they had not invited the thought of doing scenes together.

So he did nothing for a while. Just continued his discussions with David, which were becoming less and less like Q&A-sessions and more like random talks about anything and everything kink-related, with healthy doses of regular life splattered in. 

_Friendship, Eugene, it’s called having a friendship._

But that also still kind of led up to tonight — because at some point, those things had… Changed. Gene actually knew the reason for that, and it was called “Babe Heffron’s wonderful lack of sense for personal boundaries.” 

Babe and David, as mentioned above, had something of a strange friendship already — or, well, strange by Eugene’s standards. He didn’t understand it, but it seemed healthy enough, so he kept a firm stance of “do not understand, will not judge” towards the whole thing. 

However, Babe’s newfound tendency to start crowding up next to Joe when they were out together was… Something. 

Eugene had a hard time judging what was going on, if it was just a natural consequence of him and David growing closer and thus Joe and Babe also spending more time together, or if Babe’s new habit of kind-of-clinging to Liebgott was something else entirely. 

The odder thing yet, though, was that Joseph Liebgott actually allowed it. As a man who had lived through a few too many Tin Man jokes to find them funny anymore, Eugene would never call someone out on having a large sense of physical space, but.

Joe does, to say the least, have a need for physical space. The only person with which Eugene has ever seen him be casually fine with physical intimacy, of literally any kind, is David Webster, and the two still fight like two feral animals at times.

So the fact that Babe, from one week to the next, is suddenly allowed to start making little quips about Joe looking nice, or grabbing Joe’s hands to adore his nail polish, or leaning in close to whisper funny things into his ear, is… Something, once more. 

It came to a head, in one sense, one night after Babe and Joe had spent two hours with their heads pushed together, running their fingers through each others’ hair as they discussed hair care routines. Eugene, who had exchanged exactly two glances with Webster about it, had had it with not being updated on the dynamic.

He solved it by pressing Babe up against the front door once they got home, murmuring a few sweet nothings just to get the boy in the right mood before going for it. 

The moment came after he pressed a hand between Babe’s legs, giving him something to rut against, and Babe had groaned out “— _fuck_ , I’m yours, Genie, only yours, always, come on, show me—“

Eugene can’t even really remember what they said to get to that, but he took the opportunity anyway. Nipping at Babe’s earlobe, he’d murmured, “mine, huh? You sure about that?”

Babe only laughed. “Of course I’m sure, God, please— can we move? I want—“

“It’s not always about what you want, though,” Gene tutted out, very much enjoying the way Babe was groaning into the kiss he gave him. “You sure I don’t need to worry about anyone else?”

“Eugene, I promise—“

“Not even Joe Liebgott?”

It was said with enough mirth, and Babe had looked so sincerely confused for a second that Eugene’s whole heart softened, but then he seemed to catch on with a huff of laughter and a roll of his eyes. “Oh my God, you fucking— You’re so jealous and you don’t even realise it, come on.”

Eugene let himself get tugged into the bedroom, doing that thing Babe hates where he pulls his hips close as they walk, making Babe curse and giggle as he almost tripped over his own legs. “I’m just saying, you two seem to be getting along lately.”

“Yeah, as have you and David,” Babe quipped back, pushing Eugene to sit down on the bed so that he could climb into Gene’s lap. Eugene’s hands went to their favourite place, which is down the back of Babe’s pants, pulling their hips closer as Babe ran his fingers through short black hair.

“And I’m wondering if I should be worried,” Gene mumbled into Babe’s neck, to which Babe’s response was to lean back until Eugene had started to actually worry he might fall backwards and hit his head on the floor. “Edward—“

“You’re impossible,” Babe groaned, grinning while he did it. “You and Joe have been making puppy eyes at each other for a while, and this is what you— Look, I don’t know if you even noticed, but I did.”

“Babe—“

“And I figured, hey, he’s pretty, I’m pretty,” Babe leant back into Eugene’s space, breathing across Gene’s mouth without letting them actually kiss. “And I know how much you love yourself a pretty boy.”

He punctuated the thought by looking up at Eugene through those godforsaken eyelashes of his, fair in the light of the bedside lamp but still as stunning to Gene as anything he’d ever seen. Leaning forward, Babe did kiss him then, all open-mouthed and wet and warm and wonderful.

“Come on, Genie,” Babe eventually whispered once his back was being pressed into the mattress, Eugene running his fingers and tongue up the line of his torso. “Don’t tell me you haven’t had the thought, because that would be a lie.”

“David—“ Gene tried, but got cut off by a set of fingernails scraping over his scalp. Eugene gently bit down on one of Babe’s nipples in return, earning him a sigh and a not-quite-moan.

“David is a big boy, who also did not stop staring at me and Joe for a second, the whole night. And also kept checking in with you to make sure it was okay.” Eugene lifted his head up for a second, confused, because when exactly did David check in with him? Babe caught his eye, groaned and pulled Eugene back up to his mouth with a breathy laugh. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, you— You always think that the care you show others is a one-way street, don’t you?”

Eugene hadn’t known what to say to that, so he’d just let Babe run his hands down his body instead, unbuckling Gene’s belt with a sultry promise to show him what care looks like. Once again, Eugene had found himself getting sidetracked.

However, this does lead up to tonight, for real, though, because for the past couple of weeks, Eugene has let himself slowly start to follow Babe’s lead. 

That means smiling at Liebgott, shooting little compliments his way whenever Gene gets the opportunity, saying shit like “ _you know if I didn’t have Babe, my eyes would be locked on you, pretty boy._ ”

It’s said jokingly enough, the same way that everything Eugene has been saying to Joe the whole night has been said jokingly enough, but Joe still swallows, his already pink cheeks deepening in colour. Interesting. 

Meanwhile, Babe just giggles and presses a kiss to Gene’s cheek. “Well, it’s a good thing you do have me, then, lest your eyes should start to wander, Genie.” 

Then he bounces back off Eugene’s lap, going to prop his head on Joe’s shoulder for a second to admire his hair-twirling abilities. Lieb gives a little Lieb-like snarl, but doesn’t shrug Babe off, and Eugene turns back to David to continue their conversation.

What he isn’t expecting, though, is Webster to be looking at him with an odd face. Gene is immediately drawn out of whatever it is he was thinking about, because David looks… Uncertain. Sad, almost, and the added sum of the entire situation makes some very deeply-ingrained alarm bells go off in Eugene’s head.

He twists his entire body in the seat, but only gets out half the word “ _David_ ” before Web shakes his head with a smile. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want Babe and Joe to hear him — not that there’s any risk of that happening, because the two of them are currently having a very loud argument about the playlist. “Gene, I promise, it’s not… What you think it is. Can we talk about it later? Tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Eugene responds, carefully dragging his eyes over Web’s face. “But if there’s anything, ever—”

“I can tell you, I know,” David responds. He sounds honest, but there’s still a gently unhappy little curve to his mouth that doesn’t sit right with Eugene. “Doc, I promise, everything’s okay with me. Can you trust me on that?”

Eugene almost wants to say no, almost wants to derail the evening to force Webster to explain exactly what’s going on inside his head — but Eugene is also a notorious control freak, so maybe his instincts aren’t necessarily correct all of the time.

David’s asking Eugene to trust him, and he’s given him a time frame, and really that’s being pretty communicative. 

So Gene nods, returns David’s smile, and takes one look at his watch before standing up from the sofa and going to the kitchen.

“Hey,” David says, “where are you going?”

“Well, we need to leave soon,” Eugene shoots back from where he’s currently looking through the cupboards for shot glasses. “And if I remember correctly, at some point there was a demand made for pre-outing shots, so I thought—”

He doesn’t get to finish what he thought, because suddenly both Joe and Babe are shouting (Babe’s more like a squeal, because Eugene never lets him take shots before getting in a cab) about alcohol and time management and other nonsense Eugene doesn’t bother listening to. 

Of course, because between the four of them they probably have one and a quarter of a functional person (Gene won’t do the rest of them the disservice of sharing how much of those 125% are made up of himself), the pre-outing shots end up being taken literally the second before they leave.

Babe presses a kiss to Eugene’s mouth with the flimsy excuse of washing the taste out, while Joe shoves a hand into David’s face with a “the fuck off of me, I already taste like ass, I don’t need to add you to the fucking pile.”

But Webster only laughs, nuzzling into Joe’s neck while he locks the door behind them all. Eugene sees their fingers entwine in a soft moment, and for the millionth time he reminds himself that just because he doesn’t understand something, like a love language, it doesn’t mean it’s bad.

The rest of the night goes well, and Babe does get his earlier wish of being dragged home by Eugene fulfilled — though perhaps he didn’t mean it as literally as it ends up.

Because Babe gets clingy when he gets more than half a unit of alcohol in him, their nights out (or in, for that matter) usually end with him plastered to Eugene’s side like a bandaid. This night, however, the object of his affections turns out to be Joe instead — something none of them understand, truly, least of all Joe.

This leads to them standing outside of the bar at 1am, and David and Eugene almost having a breakdown as they try to pry Babe off of Liebgott.

“I don’t want to,” Babe whines, and Eugene only gets half a murmured reassurance out before the boy goes off again. “But Gene, he’s so soft! And pretty and cool, and look at his hair, Eugene! David, you know what I mean— he’s the loveliest thing in the world and I want—”

“Okay, that’s it,” Eugene says, lifting his boyfriend up by the waist. Babe squeals, squirming around like — like something squirmy, Gene doesn’t know — seemingly forgetting about his need to hug Joe in the midst of his need to flail. “Edward, we have been over this, you can’t claim people just because you like them.”

“But Eugene—”

Eugene doesn’t listen, instead turning to David and Joe with an exasperated look, ready to say goodbye when he’s hit with the second unexpected view of the night. 

Because Joe snaps his eyes away like he’s been staring at Babe, but there’s a wetness in them that Gene catches under the light of the streetlamps. David has got his face pressed into Joe’s temple, seemingly whispering fond things into his ear.

He looks… Soft. Web looks soft and gentle and sweet, and Joe is looking vulnerable, and there’s something in the back of Eugene’s head that’s trying to lay out a puzzle, here.

But they’re all drunk, and it’s 1am, and he has to get Babe into bed and also possibly suck his dick before they fall asleep, so Gene decides that this is another thing that goes on the “let’s talk later” pile. 

“You two okay to get home on your own?” Is all he asks, David meeting his eyes with another half-sad smile. 

“Yeah. You take care of your boy, I got mine. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Send me a text when you get home, just so we know? I’ll do the same.”

And with that they part, each couple in their own cab, Eugene doing his best to keep Babe from harassing the driver through second hand exposure to lewdness the whole way home.

His boyfriend has apparently remembered that clinging to Gene is the best thing Drunk Babe knows, because he doesn’t let go until Eugene forces them to part in order to take their shoes off. 

“He is,” Babe says when Eugene pulls him into bed with him, pulling Babe’s shirt off in a move that’s more slow and tired than it is sexy, but he promised the man sex and so sex there shall be.

“Who is what?” Gene asks, dragging his fingers over Babe’s ribs. Apparently he’s now ticklish, because Eugene finds himself having to half-drag, half-wrestle Babe back under him when he squeals and tries to get away. “Oh no, you don’t. You’ve been talking filth into my ear all night, you do not get to call quits now—”

Babe giggles, and Eugene smiles into the kisses he presses into Babe’s neck. It’s familiar enough that he doesn’t worry about it, knows how to interpret the high-pitched airiness of Babe’s voice, knows what his fingernails dragging a line down Eugene’s spine means. 

God, he loves this man, Eugene reminds himself as he uses one of his knees to spread Babe’s legs open under him. “Hey,” Gene murmurs into Babe’s collarbone, “who is what?”

“What? Oh,” Babe sighs, moaning as a trail of kisses are placed down his chest. “Joe. Is pretty. And has great hair. But mostly he’s pretty.”

“Is this your way of saying you’re thinking about Liebgott right now?” Eugene asks, biting into the jut of Babe’s hip just to feel him squirm.

“Maybe,” Babe laughs, giggling even more at the unimpressed look Gene shoots him. “Are you telling me you’re not? Well, it’s just up to you to prove me wrong, then, Genie. Show me how wrong I’m being, who I should be thinking about, how— _Oh_ , Gene, Jesus—”

Derailed, once again. Really, this is a worrying trend that should worry him. A lot.

(It doesn’t worry him. At all.) 

The next morning is spent as lazily as one could possibly wish for, both of them doing nothing but showering before moving to the sofa to gently nurse their hangovers — not that they’re terribly big, due to what Babe insists on calling “magic” and Eugene insists on calling “good drinking routines.”

He checks his phone every now and then, which makes Babe fuss and roll his eyes, because normally Eugene puts a ban out on phones on days like these. 

See, phones usually means at least one of them ends up doing something related to either work or their friends and, good drinking habits or no, Eugene is still aware enough of the lingering effects of alcohol to not allow himself to do anything important on hungover days.

Now, you may accuse him of simply using that as an excuse to force Babe to lie on his chest and make out for most of a day, but Gene is going to plead the fifth and not answer that. 

It’s not like Babe ever complains about it, except to call Eugene out on being a kinky weirdo who likes to snuggle way too much, so intentions don’t really matter when they both end up happy with the result.

Either way, it’s well into the afternoon when David texts him. They’d checked in when they all got home, and it starts as a continuation of that — both of them making sure everyone is feeling okay, and in one piece — before Eugene steers the conversation to what he knows is, at least, all he’s really thinking about.

Discerning conversational tone via text messages is never worth the hassle, but Eugene thinks he can smell David’s anxiety over the connection via their phones. 

Meeting today is a bust, Gene too caught up with the way Babe’s snuggling into his side under their duvet nest, but they agree on lunch tomorrow. Happy at the prospect of finally talking to David, Gene wraps his arm back around Babe’s shoulder and turns the documentary they were watching back on. Babe just hums happily where he’s half asleep on Gene’s chest, and they laze the rest of the day away like that.

———

David looks nervous again. They’ve met up at the same place as that first time, a café almost exactly half-way between their two apartments, and Eugene is struck by a feeling of déjà vu as they sit down once more together in the quietest corner. 

God bless their messed-up schedules, because Monday pre-noons are apparently not a busy time for this place. Otherwise, David looks like he’d be ready to bolt out of the front door.

But unlike last time, the nervousness isn’t nostalgically endearing to Eugene as much as it is worrying, and he wastes exactly no time on small talk.

“David, what’s going on?” He asks the second they sit down, in that voice he tries to only use on patients he suspects of lying to him.

Webster freezes for a second, before taking a very slow, deep, controlled breath. He sits up a little straighter, looks Eugene in the eye and says—

“It’s not what it sounds like, but it’s Joe. I’m… A little worried.” 

“Oh?” Is all Gene says, because if it’s ‘not what it sounds like,’ he has no idea what the fuck it is.

“Okay, so first off: he knows we’re having this conversation, and he’s fine with it,” David says, and Eugene is no closer to knowing what the fuck is going on. “It’s— I’m— Okay.”

It’s weird, watching Web steel himself about five times like he’s going to just say whatever is on his mind already before cutting himself off again. Gene can’t decide if he should let the man work it out himself, or just point blank force him to spill.

“Joe is… He cries. A lot.” And okay, out of all the things— “During sex, after it, during scenes especially, and he won’t tell me why.”

“Bad crying?” Eugene asks, taking a large sip of his coffee while wishing he’d just ordered two cups at once while he was at it. “And what do you mean, he won’t tell you why?”

“It’s not bad. I’ve… Deduced that much,” is the response, Gene tacking on the as-always-implied ‘ _after many fights about it_ ’ on his own. “And I don’t know why. He tries to insist on it being one of those ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ things, but even if that’s the case, I…”

“You still want to know,” Eugene finishes for him. He leans forward onto his elbows, looking up at David under furrowed brows. “Look, it’s not that I… I’m glad to give whatever advice I can, but I’m a little confused. Please don’t get me wrong, but what has this got to do with… Us?”

He settles on ‘us,’ not knowing what the word for “ _the way you look at your boyfriend, my boyfriend and me during certain times when I and said boyfriend of mine, especially, go out of our/his way to flirt with said boyfriend of yours_ ” is.

Gene tries to tack on a, “David, if anything we’ve done has made either of you uncomfortable, please let me know right now, and also I’m sorry for not explicitly asking for your consent from the get-go, we thought—“ but gets cut off.

“Gene,” David says, taking a deep breath and looking out the windows for a moment, “if you two did something that wasn’t welcome, I’m pretty sure one of us would have punched you.”

The note in his voice is like this conversation is part of some larger ongoing debate that David’s been having for a while now, just pure exasperation in some way that Eugene isn’t entirely privy to.

“Then what—“

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” David interrupts him again, “but Joe is very… relaxed around you two. I don’t know how you do it, Babe especially, but it’s like you… pull something out of him that very rarely gets pulled out. Trust me.”

“Okay, uh, I think I know what you’re getting at,” Eugene says slowly, feeling like there’s some part of his head that starts to catch on to where David is trying to go with this. 

Because he has noticed. He’s thought about it and tried not to wonder, because it felt intrusive, but he’s done it anyway.

Joe… Well. The most diplomatic way Eugene can think to describe him, in order not to make another one of those Tin Man jokes that he despises; Joe’s a bit like a cat. A cat that doesn’t like people very much. People have often told Gene the same, and he wouldn’t call them wrong, but he’s a Gentle Giant of a dog compared to Joseph Liebgott.

See, while Eugene isn’t overly extroverted or outwardly enthusiastic about either things or people unless they’re part of his personal space, so to say (which, in the span of a few months, both Joe and David have managed to become. Huh), Joe is straight up hostile to other people. 

Eugene, no joke, once saw him actually try to hiss at a guy. Sure, Joe was drunk and the guy in question had made an unwelcome advance at his boyfriend while he was standing next to him, but still. 

Joe doesn’t act like he likes anyone, including David (and Eugene knows for a fact that Joe likes David a whole lot). He doesn’t do hugs, he doesn’t do casual touching, and he definitely doesn’t do pet names, even jokingly.

But with Eugene and Babe… He kind of does. Eugene didn’t understand it a few days or weeks ago, and still doesn’t if he’s being completely honest, but it’s perhaps starting to make a bit more sense now.

When Babe invades his space to crawl all over him, figuratively or literally, Joe lets him. When Eugene tuts at him and calls him pretty, Joe lets him. When either of them have casually placed a hand on his chin, his neck, or his shoulder while they tell him something, Joe has let them. 

Babe even pressed a very insistent kiss to Joe’s cheek once after being lent one of his scarves, and cat man Joseph had scrunched his nose but not even attempted to push him off. He hasn’t figured out a good nickname for Joe yet, but Eugene is sure it’s coming.

Gene’s considered that before, but suddenly, David’s soft eyes and the way he’s been gently watching Joe interact with Babe (and probably Eugene, too, if this is the case) falls into place as well. Eugene can’t even imagine only getting to see Babe’s eyes go soft like that when he’s around someone else — but then again, Gene is not David, and Babe is not Joseph. 

Taking Babe’s soft eyes away from him would be to fundamentally change him, and Gene’s chest aches just thinking about it. Point still stands though, and Eugene feels like some of the nuances about David’s behaviour starts falling into place.

So while he might not know the full significance of all of that, Gene thinks he understands what David means. “And how does that make you feel?”

“It’s… It’s both good and bad,” David sighs, but he doesn’t seem upset as he leans back in his seat. “But the bad is just that I… I want him to feel like he’s safe, you know? We’ve talked about it, why he’s fine with letting you two do certain things, like, I mean, imagine me calling him pretty in public.”

“He’d probably punch you,” Gene says, sipping at his coffee.

“He has punched me,” David agrees, smiling like the memory is somehow fond to him. “And that’s fine, because that’s how we operate, you know? But the fact that he lets you do it tells me that it’s not because he doesn’t want it, he just doesn’t want it from me. At least not right now.”

“Have you talked to Joseph about it?” Because as much as Gene is happy to support his friends, this feels like a conversation for the two of them, not for Eugene and David. 

“I have. And I can’t say I understand him, but at the same time it’s like I do.” Leaning back over the table, David bites his lip in thought. “Joe says it’s not to do with me, but in some way it has to be, or at least the way he sees me.”

“Well… Okay.” There goes the last of Eugene’s coffee, and a part of him wants to pause the conversation to order another one. He decides against it, and instead runs a finger over the rim of his empty mug as he continues. “I have no idea if this is how Joseph feels, but I can relate to the… Situation. What you two have is, it matters, you know? Me and Babe, we don’t. Not in the same way. If there’s something you want, on whatever level, it might be easier to explore that with someone that’s not as important to you, if you understand my point? I’m not saying that Babe and I aren’t important to either of you, I’m just…”

“You’re not me,” David fills in gently, smiling softly at him. “You’re not me, and maybe that’s the point.”

“What is the point, David? Exactly?”

Eugene asks the question, and David takes a breath, looking him in the eye for a few seconds. “Gene, please be real with me here. Do you think that what you and Babe have been doing lately is flirting?”

And, oh, okay. Gene had come prepared for… Well, not this question, but a discussion like it. The honest answer is that he doesn’t know what exactly he thinks Babe and him have been doing, and it makes Eugene annoyed at himself.

He’d tried to actually talk to Babe about it before meeting with David today, but Babe had only responded with “I don’t know, Eugene, I love you but Joe is cute, and so is David. I haven’t exactly got a plan here, and I really don’t need to.” 

He’d then gone into a minor tirade about overthinking things that had made Gene smile, but didn’t exactly get him any closer to having an answer.

Because honestly, he’s kind of in the same corner as Babe. He hasn’t been thinking, has just gone off of intuition and Babe’s initiative, and ended up somewhere where he wasn’t not flirting, but wasn’t not not flirting either.

Deciding that Web is going to have to make what he wants of it, Gene looks down at his mug, and then back up at him. “I don’t think it’s not flirting. But neither of us really… Have a goal with it, exactly, there’s no expectation, I’ve just been…”

“Testing the waters and seeing what, if anything, might possibly come from it?” David finishes for him, and Eugene gives a half-nod, half-shrug. “Okay, then, so, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk about it.”

“Of course. What’re you thinking?” This feels more like familiar territory. There’s something in Eugene’s chest that’s suddenly starting to pay attention, and he’s torn between wanting to indulge in it and beat it down.

“What I’m thinking is this — again, Joe knows we’re having this conversation, Gene,” _how elaborate was this talk between them?_ Gene thinks, very curious about what exactly has been going on behind the Webster-Liebgott scenes. “There are some things that Joe wants, that I think he needs, for lack of a better word. And this is me, checking with you to see if you think that maybe, you and Babe would be interested in perhaps… Giving him a space to explore that.”

“As in, doing a scene together?” Eugene asks, just to get it officially out there. David nods, and the thing in his chest is definitely paying attention. “And I’m assuming that you… Wouldn’t be there?”

“Yes.”

“David, I know you’ve said Joe knows this conversation is happening, and I believe you, but why is he not here to have it?”

“He’s afraid you’re going to say no. And that is actually me putting words in his mouth, because I think he’s afraid of even admitting to that, which is another reason I want to ask you.” It’s blunt, the way he says it, which is soothing in a way it maybe shouldn’t be.

“And the… Crying… Thing, is part of it too?” Gene asks, watching David huff out a laugh and rub his hand over his face.

“I’m sorry for leading with that, God, that was probably not the best way to start this conversation off,” he groans, laughing when Gene laughs with him.

“Maybe not. I think the ‘I’m worried’ was worse, though. But if I’m honest, I wouldn’t know how to start this conversation off if I was you. This is new territory for me too.” The way David’s shoulders relax at that sits fondly in Eugene’s mind.

He looks up at Eugene again, leaning his chin in his hand. “You two haven’t… Done this, either?”

“A threesome? We have, but not under these circumstances. Not with friends. And not with someone who already had a partner of their own.” There’s no point in lying, and Gene trusts his judgement that Babe won’t be offended about him sharing this information.

“Oh. Well. I’m fine with it, I promise,” David says, which hadn’t been Gene’s point, but does get them onto that part of this discussion.

“Are you sure?” Leaning his elbows on the table, Gene frowns up at him. “Because if there’s even a single part of you that—“

“Christ, Eugene,” David says with a shake of his head, “if there was, we wouldn’t be here. Believe me, Joe would have never let me suggest it if he wasn’t convinced I was okay with it. There’s been—“

“A lot of fighting over it?” He can’t help himself, huffing out a laugh when Web rolls his eyes.

“A lot of very civil debate, Gene, we are capable of having those too.”

“Ah, so you haven’t been fighting, then?” David makes a face like he bit into something sour, and Eugene grins. “Don’t worry, I know you two. I trust you.”

“Thanks,” Web huffs out at him, but there is something fond about it nonetheless. “But to answer your question earlier, yeah, I think the… Softness is a part of it. If you wouldn’t mind. I know that you and Babe have a way of doing this stuff, and that it differs from how Joe and I do this stuff, and I’m thinking that maybe your way of doing it might be a good thing for him? Just for…”

“For giving him a space to explore it?” David nods, and if finishing each other’s sentences is going to become a habit, Gene might need to take a time-out of his own. Being on that level of friendship with David Webster, of all people, was never something he imagined would ever happen.

At this point, Eugene does get up to order another coffee, because he refuses to continue any kind of conversation about kink without it. When he gets back, David has his phone out, smiling at it in a way that makes Gene smile, too.

“Joe says hi,” he says when Eugene sits back down, and Gene smiles in response. 

“Has he been waiting to hear from you this whole time?” He asks, and the flat look David gives him in response is answer enough.

“‘Waiting,’ you say, as if he hasn’t been crawling up the walls while trying to be cool at work,” is what he actually answers with. 

“Okay, so just to make things clear,” Eugene says, so happy to be able to take a sip of his coffee he could cry. Maybe Babe is right and he should cut back a little, but that’s a revelation for another time. “I’m not saying no, David. But I really need to talk to Babe first, and we all need to sit down and talk some more before we decide anything, yeah? At least Joe. It’s nice of you to ask for him, but if he can’t talk about this stuff with us, there’s no way—“

“Yeah, of course,” David hurries to say, putting his phone away and returning his full attention to Gene. “I get that. So does he. And I know you can’t make these types of calls without Babe, absolutely not, and that wasn’t what I was telling Joe either. He was just worried that you were going to… I don’t know, be horrible about this. I knew you’d never, and deep down I think he did too, but I wanted to tell him anyway.”

“Fear is fear, it doesn’t have to be rational to be real. All I mean is that—“

“There’s a lot more talking that needs to happen,” s _eriously, that time-out might be needed_ , “and actual negotiations and stuff. But are you… Open to the idea? Do you think Babe would be?”

“Well, I can’t say for certain, but I think Babe might be. I know I am, at least so far, but we’ll get there. And if not, I’ll be happy to help you find someone that is, yeah?”

“Thanks. But one thing at a time?” 

Eugene smiles at his friend, taking another sip of coffee, and agrees. 

What he doesn’t say, because it’s good to not make promises — including implied ones — that you can’t keep, is that Gene is currently thinking very hard about getting home and telling Babe about how the coffee date went. 

It’s not because he’s a pervert that wants to fuck his friends, but because this has kind of been building up for weeks, and Eugene knows for a fact that Babe is indeed interested in both Joe and David. Platonic as it may be.

Maybe these weren’t quite the circumstances he was expecting, but if he’s honest, that’s a bit of a plus in Eugene’s book. If anything like this happened, it was going to be important no matter the shape it took, and being able to maybe help a friend out in more ways than one was… A nice thought. 

‘Cat person’ as he may be, Gene cares deeply about his friends, and he cares deeply about Babe, and he cares deeply about matters pertaining to kink. Being able to do something that might satisfy all three of those parts at once, well.

He and the small family of butterflies in his stomach are both excited about this.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s Babe who opens the door when Joe knocks. They have a doorbell, but he knocks anyway, because he’s feeling antsy and unsure and it feels nice to have an excuse to punch something.

He has no idea what he looks like when the door swings open, but “a mess” is most likely the answer. Joe has been antsy for days, only growing more and more so as Saturday drew nearer, and at least a lot of it must show on his face by the time he’s actually standing on their doorstep.

Not that Babe, the fucking ray of sunshine, takes any visible notice. Instead he just smiles in that too-happy way of his, crushing Joe into a hug.

“Hey! Hi, welcome, come in,” Babe says, immediately throwing himself into a ramble. “God, I’m so glad you’re here, I need you to settle something because Eugene is being an idiot. On a scale from one to ten where would—“

Joe doesn’t get to know what it is that Babe wants him to settle, because Gene comes out from the kitchen and interrupts whatever the fuck it is that he’s on about. “Hi, Joseph, sorry about Edward. I let him have coffee, which was obviously a mistake.”

That makes Babe frown, and Joe becomes privy to some grade-A Heffron Whining while he gets his shoes and jackets off.

He never even gets to hear the end to whatever it was Babe needed him to settle, because Eugene placates his boyfriend with a kiss and a “I’m sorry I said you couldn’t handle your coffee” that gets the fussball to calm down.

Eugene apparently has something he needs to finish up in the kitchen first, leaving Joe alone with Babe. The man is as chirpy as always, filling up Joe’s somewhat awkward silence with talking about the weather and this new show he’s been watching.

“Hey, Joe,” he says in the middle of it, after they’ve moved from the hallway to Babe and Gene’s living room. They’re not exactly walking towards the bedroom, but they’re not exactly not, either. “How are you feeling today? Everything okay?”

Joe’s not an idiot. He recognises what’s essentially a colour check when he sees it, and the way Babe’s looking at him — calm, but weighted in a way that’s more familiar from Eugene’s expression during the conversations they had planning this whole thing out — is definitely that.

And while he’s nervous, deathly thankful that David had brought over a bag of shit like pyjamas and stuff the night earlier because having to go through that stuff right now might make him explode, it’s not bad nervousness, per se. 

It’s just some regular, plain “I’m about to get fucked by not one, but two of my friends while my boyfriend has fucked off back home” nervousness. Nothing to sound an alarm about, this is perfectly normal.

“Yeah, I’m good,” is all he says, though. Babe grins at him, widening when Joe continues with, “what, you wanna call this off into tea time instead?”

“Don’t be crude,” Babe says, _and in what fucking world would that even be crude_ , “I just wanted to check. Come on, you really have to watch this show though, it’s insane—“

And then they’re back to their regular scheduled programming, with Babe calling out to Eugene that they’re going to the bedroom in case he wonders where they went.

Gene ends up joining them before they’ve even made it three steps into the room, which could be because he was actually doing fuck all in the kitchen while Babe helped Joe act less like a serial killer, or because his washing up just happened to time them that well. Joe doesn’t know which one is more likely.

Either way, they all end up in bed together, but not like Joe expected. Not that he really knows what the hell he expected — Look, he doesn’t know how to start shit, okay? There’s a reason the word ‘foreplay’ doesn’t exist in the Liebgott-Webster household, and it’s that Joe doesn’t fucking know how to ask for anything.

Not that he would ever admit to it, but as Heffron pulls him and Gene down on either side of him, turning on whatever shit reality show he’s obsessed with for the moment, Joe just kinda goes along with it. He tries to relax, because Babe is obviously doing his best to get him to do that, and forces his breathing to stay slow and deep as he half-burrows into the truly stupid amount of pillows on this bed.

He doesn’t understand why two people would need so many pillows. Like what the fuck are they even doing with them? What are they for? 

Well, okay, so maybe he’s already finding out at least one use, because Joe really is comfortable. Babe’s head is on his shoulder, summarising the last fifteen seasons of whatever this garbage is, with Eugene on the other side of Babe. Gene is leaning back against the headboard, with an air of amused resignation that Joe recognises from his own relationship. 

It’s the same air as when Webster starts talking about jellyfish, or sharks, or just the ocean in general. He’s glad to discover that suffering through stupid shit for your boyfriend’s sake is something not exclusive to his own relationship.

And Babe is obviously enjoying having a new audience, because he’s slowly nestling up to Liebgott like he’s just happy to have him there. Joe forces himself to stay chill, because okay, he can do this. He’s still lowkey freaking out, but he knows this.

He knows how to cuddle with Babe Heffron — in fact all of their friends probably know how to do it, because Babe is a shameless hug slut. This is fine. Hell, it’s borderline normal. Sure, for the past few years Eugene really has been getting the brunt of Babe’s physical affection, but Joe has known him for longer still, not to mention the whole… Thing between them lately.

So he wraps an arm around Babe’s back, pulls him a little closer, and Babe responds with a hand on Joe’s waist. One of Babe’s legs pushes up under one of Lieb’s, and the head on his shoulder nuzzles up closer.

Joe is aware that he’s probably stiff as a fucking plank of wood, but Heffron makes no comment, and he could kiss the fucking man for it. It takes half an episode for him to finally start to breath a little calmer, lean his cheek on Babe’s soft mess of hair and drag his hand over the line of Babe’s waist.

Babe, at some point, stops talking, and they’re left in a comfortable silence. Joe glances over at Eugene, cheeks burning and heart thumping hard in his chest, because he really doesn’t know what the man must be thinking about the two of them. But Gene isn’t even watching them, is still just leaning back against the pillows and looking at the TV, one of his legs pulled up and his fingers kind of inattentively playing with the hem of his own shirtsleeve.

Maybe he should feel bad, maybe he should be freaking out, but the fact that Eugene just seems to be chilling honestly just makes Joe feel reassured in a silly and stupid and odd and nice way. He looks away from the man and rubs his cheek gently over the crown of Babe’s head, earning him a soft sigh.

He seems to like it, so Joe keeps going, dragging his hand up from Babe’s waist to card through his hair. It’s soft and compliant under his fingers, well-brushed and clean. Joe combs his fingers through it a few times, just checking to see what it gets him.

Babe is leaning into the touch, and when Joe scrapes his nails gently over his scalp he moves his head so that his face is pressed into Liebgott’s neck. Cheeks burning, Joe does it again, glad he didn’t cut his nails before this when it makes Babe squirm a little.

Soft lips press into his skin, just above where his shoulder turns into his neck, and Joe leans his head to the side to give Heffron the access he’s asking for. It earns him a happy little sigh and more kisses. Not much, just dry, chaste presses of Babe’s mouth that make his skin tingle.

He drags a finger over the line of Babe’s ear, feeling him give not-quite-a-shiver at the light touch. Joe does it again, slowly mapping out what kinds of touches the boy likes, and when he draws one nail over the soft skin behind Babe’s jaw he gets a wet tongue over his neck in response.

It’s tantalising. The soft little kitten licks Babe gives him slowly turn into increasingly daring kisses to Joe’s neck. The hand Babe’s had on his stomach drags down to Joe’s hips, a thumb pressing into the little sliver of skin between the hem of his shirt and where his jeans always ride low on his skinny frame.

The touch isn’t much, borderline innocent, but it’s close enough to make Joe take a deep breath, placing his own fingers on top of Babe’s. He isn’t sure if he wants to pull Babe’s hand away, or push it down his pants properly, so he just kind of keeps it in place until he decides.

Babe doesn’t seem to mind, tough, propping himself up on his other arm to be able to press kisses higher up on Joe’s neck. He works his way up to Lieb’s jaw, and Joe breathes through it. His eyes haven’t been focused on what’s going on on the screen for a while, but he doesn’t actually pull them away until Babe takes his earring between his teeth and gently tugs on it.

That does it, though. Joe leans his head to the side so that he can look down on Heffron, locking their gazes together. Babe looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, looking relaxed and playful. His eyes go down to Joe’s lips, making him swallow, and when they go back up he recognises the question. 

Joe doesn’t even think very much as he leans down, pressing their mouths together almost sweetly. Babe’s mouth is soft against his, just like he thought it would be, and they kiss softly, slowly, moving carefully against each other for a few moments.

Babe gently moves his hand from Joe’s hip to the mattress beside him, pressing himself up again until he’s leaning over Liebgott, giving them a better angle to kiss properly. Joe’s closed his eyes by now, and he puts one of his hands on Babe’s back, the other nestling into his red hair, not pulling him closer as much as just stopping him from pulling away.

Not that Heffron seems to want to do that, coaxing Joe’s mouth open with a soft little noise that goes straight to his dick. Babe presses a knee between Liebgott’s, rubbing their thighs together, making both of them sigh at the contact.

Joe does pull him down, then, craving the friction, the weight of him. Babe goes willingly, presses their hips together, making another little noise as he does.

Babe is a better kisser than he’d expected, honestly, all soft and kind and adaptable. It’s a good counter to Joe’s usual toothy fighting, and they settle on a good middle ground between meek and rough.

He’s so caught up in Babe’s hair and his lips and the small, careful rolls of his hips that Joe straight up forgets there’s a third person there until Eugene speaks up next to them.

“Am I to interpret this as you two not wanting to watch this anymore?” He sounds very unimpressed and Joe immediately feels himself flush bright red, ready to bite back against the dismissive tone, but Babe responds before Joe gets the chance.

“It’s boring,” is all he says in a whiny tone, pressing a few kisses down Joe’s jawline, gently nipping on top of his pulse point. “I got bored, Gene, it’s not my fault.”

“You were the one who put it on,” Eugene says, bickering like Joe isn’t even there, nor being assaulted by his boyfriend, and that ticks him off a bit.

Sure, Liebgott can’t actually see what the two of them look like right now, but Eugene should not sound this calm when this scene is playing out two whole feet away. “Ain’t Heffron’s fault,” he says, pulling Babe back up by the hair so he can ghost their lips together again, “that you don’t know a good show when you see one.”

That makes Babe laugh, and Joe kisses the sound out of him, very much enjoying the way Gene goes silent next to them. He pushes on Babe’s shoulder, rolling them over until he’s splayed out over the other boy.

He’s at a better angle to grind into Heffron like this, and he exploits it for all that he can. Babe moans under him and ruts up in turn, letting Joe feel his growing erection press into his hip, which is more exhilarating than it has any right to be.

“Boy this pretty,” he says, nosing down the line of Babe’s jaw so that he can look up at Eugene while he does it, “you’d think you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off him.”

Gene’s eyes are dark, his face very still, and Joe fights against the urge to swallow or squirm under it. Babe moans again, a breathy little something sounding an awful lot like Joe’s name, blatantly asking to have the attention back. 

But Liebgott’s caught up in a standoff with Eugene, who reaches one very steady hand out to take Joe’s chin between two firm fingers, tilting his jaw up. Babe latches his lips onto the exposed skin of his throat, catching him between the two of them.

“Are you saying I don’t know a pretty boy when I see one?” Eugene slowly asks in a low voice, and shit, it’s doing things to Joe. 

He licks his lips, shrugs with one shoulder, trying to keep his head from running away from him. Joe is not going to give in that easily, and he needs this asshole to know it. Heffron might be fine turning into a ball of horny dough after nothing more than a kiss and a compliment, but Joseph Liebgott is made out of tougher stuff than that.

“I don’t know, Doc,” he shoots back, grinning at the way Eugene’s eyes narrow at him. “You don’t seem to be treating him the way he deserves right now.”

“Are you telling me how to care for my boy?” Gene’s voice is ice cold. It makes Joe grin wider, how quickly he was able to rile him up. He shrugs again, and Eugene darts his tongue out, licking his lips almost absentmindedly. 

Then he’s moving, and now it’s Joe’s turn to be pushed into the mattress, Eugene sprawling himself halfway over Babe to be able to lean over Joe instead. It looks awkward, should be awkward, but the bastard manages to do it in a way that’s annoyingly dignified.

The hand on his shoulder, the one that rolled him over, moves up Joe’s throat, cupping the underside of his jaw and tilting his head back. It’s not a chokehold, but it’s not _not_ one, either, and Gene flexes his fingers just to show that he absolutely could cut off Joe’s airways if he wanted to.

Fuck, with his doctor knowledge, he probably knows how to do it safely — hard enough to make Joe choke and twitch and is lungs scream for air, but not so hard it’d make him pass out—

_Getting off track here, Joseph_. He is not going to give up this easily, that’d be ridiculous. Joe licks his lips, staring defiantly up at Eugene, taking a very slow, deep breath that he knows Gene can feel every second of. 

The muscle of Eugene’s jaw is working very hard as he clearly debates what the fuck to do with this little asshole, and it’s sending a spike down Joe’s spine. He knew he’d win out, determined to push and prod at Gene’s carefully manufactured calm facade until the man gives up and just… 

Okay, so maybe Joe has no fucking clue what Eugene Roe will do to him when he snaps, but he’s sure as fuck going to find out. Soon, from the looks of it. 

But then the man leans back, pulling his eyes from Joe and focusing back on Babe, which he doesn’t expect. Babe has been kind of fussing about under Eugene, obviously unhappy with not having anyone kiss him for all of a whole minute, and Gene makes an apologetic noise at him.

His hand is still holding Joe’s jaw in place, but he lets Babe pull him down into a long series of soft kisses. When they part, Gene nudges Babe’s face to the side with a low hum, licking a stripe over the shell of his ear. It’s gross, but Babe moans anyway, and fuck, he’s actually really good-looking when he does that.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Eugene says quietly, and Babe does, immediately looking over at Joe lying next to him. His eyes are kind of glassy as they focus on Joe. One of Babe’s hands is holding Eugene’s head in place where he’s getting kisses pressed into his neck, and he’s looking two sheets to the wind but ready to fucking purr under the attention.

“Look at him,” Gene says, and Joe doesn’t know which of them he’s talking to, but he can’t find it in him to look away from Babe either way. His hair is a mess, half spread out under him, half falling over his face, his cheeks are flushed and his lips look soft and kiss-red where he’s biting on them. “Isn’t he pretty, _chérie_?” 

“Yeah,” Babe breathes out, and Lieb forces himself to not twitch. They’re talking about him, and he doesn’t know what kind of mindfuckery this is, but he isn’t going to let it get to him. Babe’s eyes don’t leave his for a second, and Eugene tilts his head enough to look Joe over while still pressing kisses into Babe’s neck. “Yeah, Gene, he is.”

“I don’t think he thinks so, sweetie. I know,” Eugene mumbles when Babe makes a disagreeing, unhappy noise. “I know, but look at him, _minou_ , I don’t think he does. Or maybe he just doesn’t know yet. We’re gonna have to show him.”

Gene pulls his lips up from Babe, leaning back over Liebgott again, stroking his thumb over the line of his jaw. Joe refuses to look up at him, but also doesn’t want to keep seeing the dumb, reverent, soft look on Heffron’s face, either, so he closes his eyes with a shaking breath. _Fuck._

“Poor thing,” Eugene coos at him, and this is— Joe is not a person that gets cooed at, not with that soft note in Gene’s voice, not with Heffron chiming in with a little whine of his own. “Look at him, _chérie_ , he has no idea how fucking gorgeous he is. You think anyone’s ever told him?”

There’s another hand on Joe’s cheek, a lot softer than the fucking iron grip Eugene still has on his jaw. Babe is stroking cool knuckles over his face, from his temple to his chin, soft and gentle and curious. It’s a borderline caress, and it’s too sweet. It’s sweet and sappy and fucking careful, and Joe has done nothing to earn it, and this whole thing is ridiculous.

God, he should stop this, because he’s— Fuck, not going down that rabbit hole. Joe takes a deep breath, tries to block out the feeling of Babe’s soft fingers tracing the outline of his lips, because of course he doesn’t actually have the guts to ask him to stop, just lies there with his stupid burning cheeks and his shivering breath and his—

“Stop that,” Eugene suddenly says, tilting Joe’s jaw up, and it’s so unexpected his eyes automatically shoot open to look up at the man. Gene is looking calm, like he has complete control over this whole situation, which is a big step from where Joe’s own head is desperately struggling to spiral out of his own control. 

Then Eugene is moving, taking his hand off Joe and crawling up the length of the bed, disappearing from Liebgott’s field of view. Not that he’s left alone, because the second he’s not held down any more Babe is rolling over, pressing into Joe’s side happily. 

“You’re thinking mean thoughts,” Babe tells him softly, and fuck, he really is that transparent. Huh. Joe feels like he wants to scream, feeling like… Like... He doesn’t know, okay, he feels childish and humiliated and called out and he just wants to get out of his own head for a while. “Come on, you.”

He’s too tired for this, suddenly, not fighting as Babe nudges him up the bed, lets himself get pulled into Eugene’s lap and leaned back against his chest, lets Babe nudge up between his and Eugene’s spread legs to rub their noses together. He refuses to look at either of them, keeping his eyes screwed shut as Babe’s hands run up the insides of his thighs, being held in place by Gene’s firm arms.

“You want to kiss him?” Eugene asks his boyfriend, moving one hand up to card through Joe’s hair.

“Yes,” Babe says, almost as a groan, pressing his hands into where Joe’s legs meet his hips. “Please, Gene, I want to.”

“You know how to ask for things better than that, _minou._ ”

Joe should feel insulted, really. The two of them are having a whole conversation above his head, about him, like he’s not even here. It should be insulting, demeaning, infantilising, and he should fight them on it. 

But instead Joe finds himself screwing his eyes shut, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks and taking a shaky breath because God, he really wants to hear if Babe wants to kiss him that bad. And that’s humiliating in itself, isn’t it? It’s pathetic, humiliating and pathetic and—

“Best hurry up, _chérie_ ,” Eugene mumbles, pressing a kiss into Joe’s temple. “I think our pretty boy is thinking too much, again.”

“Please, Eugene,” Babe says, audibly swallowing. “please let me kiss him, please, I want to, I’ll be so good, I promise. Just please, let me, please, please—“

Suddenly there’s a hot breath on Joe’s ear, making him shiver. “What do you think, Joseph?” Eugene asks, lips moving against the thin skin there, making him want to curl his spine against it. “You think he’s asking nicely enough?”

Joe doesn’t know what to say. He’s not good at talking, and he doesn’t trust himself to not say too little or too much or the wrong things, so he doesn't. Instead, he opens his eyes and, overriding the screaming part of his mind, looks at Babe whose expression is— 

He doesn’t let himself dwell on it: the glassy, wide eyes, the little frown, the almost desperate way he’s biting his lower lip, that Babe was talking to Eugene but has clearly been staring at Joe, like Joe is— _he doesn’t let himself dwell on it._ He doesn’t dwell, he just puts an unsteady hand on the back of Babe’s neck and pulls him in.

Babe leans into it like he’s a drowning man being offered an oxygen mask, and that image alone is almost too much, but Joe doesn’t make himself stop. Heffron’s lips press against his, soft and wet and already kiss-swollen, and Joe actually moans into it at the same time that Babe does.

It’s laughable, that they do that, but it’s also endearing in a way Joe doesn’t really know how to handle, so he doesn’t. He just lets it be what it fucking is, because what it is is fucking nice, okay? 

Babe’s lips feels nice against his, and Eugene’s body feels warm and firm and safe behind his, and his hands are warm where they’re moving up Joe’s chest, to his neck, to, wait—

He only just realises what’s going on in time to not be stuck with his tongue hanging out of his mouth when Eugene pushes Babe off of him firmly. Joe immediately starts to frown, because what the fuck was that, he was enjoying himself. He doesn’t get more than half a grumpy whine out, though, before Gene’s pressing on his throat with hard fingers, and _Oh_.

Because this is not like before — this is not just a fun reminder, a soft little tether, this is an actual warning. Joe gets pressed back into Eugene’s shoulder with enough force to make his breathing feel a little bit wheezy. He swallows against it, feeling the muscles of his throat work under the hand pressing on it. Fuck, he can hear it. 

Of course, because Joe is a nutcase, it also has him panting like a fucking dog on Gene’s lap. It takes him a few moments to catch up to what’s actually going on, and when he does, he realises that he’s not the one in trouble.

Because Eugene isn’t directing his glare at Joe, but at Babe, who is looking downright scared where he’s kneeling on the mattress, flushed bright red, eyes downcast, and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“That was nice. Did I say you could do that?” Eugene asks, and his voice is so low that Joe’s chest is vibrating with it. He makes a noise, can tell that he does, not because he hears it but because he feels the vibrations against Gene’s hand. “Did I?”

“I’m sorry,” Babe says, sounding out of breath and like he’s shivering, which he probably is. Joe’s closed his eyes to try and get his head focused, so he doesn’t see it, but Babe’s been pretty reliably sounding like he looks so far. “Gene, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— I wasn’t— Gene, I thought—“

“I’m not the one you have to apologise to, sweetie,” is the response he gets, and wait, no, don’t fucking pull Joseph into this— “You want to be bad, that’s up to you, but you do not have the right to get him in trouble for it, too.”

Babe doesn’t seem to know what to say, because he just kind of whimpers instead. Joe looks up to see Babe wearing an expression similar to what Joe assumes a puppy would look like if you kicked it. A puppy that really, really loves you. It’s almost too much for even his cynical heart, and he wants to reach out and gather Babe up into his arms and kiss the look off of his face.

“And now what am I going to do with you?” Eugene says, getting his free hand out to cup Babe’s trembling jaw with it. “How are you gonna show me how sorry you are, huh? How are you gonna show Joseph?” 

Babe leans into Eugene’s hand like it’s the fucking sun and he’s freezing to death, and Gene strokes his cheek a few times before pulling it away. His grip on Joe’s throat doesn’t let go, but it is easing up as he drags a couple of fingers up the inside of one of Joe’s thighs.

It’s not a terrible lot of contact, through the fabric of his jeans and with how light Eugene’s touch is, but Joe nonetheless has a hard time staying entirely still. Especially when those fingers move up the bulge in his trousers, just firm enough that he feels it, and knows Gene can most definitely tell that Joe is almost hard as a fucking rock from this treatment.

He really tries not to moan, but it’s not easy. Babe is watching every move of Eugene’s hand as he slowly teases Liebgott with soft touches all over his dick, and he looks like he’s ready to do just about anything to get permission to join in.

God, he must really want to touch J— No, cutting that thought off. It’s not Joe, it’s Eugene, and anyway— _fuck_ — he has a hard time thinking straight, because Gene is pressing a finger into the space just under the head of his cock, effectively cutting off all the processing juice inflow into his brain.

Joe does moan, then, and it seems to resonate within Babe, who whines in return. God, Eugene really has them singing like a pair of cats here, huh? He’d be impressed if he wasn’t busy desperately trying to buck his hips up into Gene’s too-soft, teasing grip.

“Eugene, please, tell me, I’ll do— Fuck, Genie, please,” Babe babbles as Eugene starts kissing what areas of Joe’s neck he can reach. 

“Are you sorry?” Eugene asks, getting a stream of reassurances that _yes, so sorry, so fucking sorry, please, Gene_ , and Liebgott listens to it all with an air of incredulity. 

Because Babe is really… Pleading like he’s losing his mind, isn’t he? Sure, he’s beet fucking red and close to tears, but Joe suspects that it’s more because he really feels that bad about it, not about the fact that he’s really demeaning himself for Eugene here. For Jo—

No. No, not for— No.

“You want to show our pretty boy how sorry you are?” Eugene is asking, and Liebgott once again closes his eyes because something very tender and hopeful flashes over Babe’s face.

“Yes,” the boy breathes out, and Eugene straight up laughs at him. It’s more relieved than mean, but still, Joe feels himself bristle at it.

But not Babe, because of course Babe takes it as a good thing. “Come here, then, and help me,” Eugene says, and it takes them all of ten seconds to tug Joe’s shirt off his head. He’s then left with only a pair of very low-riding jeans and his jewelry, and he’s feeling very exposed.

In doing that, Eugene has to take his hand away from Joe’s throat. It’s nice to be able to breathe and, like, move his head at will again, but he also feels a bit… Off, without the soft pressure there.

When he’s pulled back to Gene’s chest, Joe feels the sudden wish that he could just hide for a little bit. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s blushing, maybe it’s the loss of the tether, maybe it’s the way Babe breathes in, almost like a gasp. 

“Gene—“ Babe whimpers, _why the fuck is the jerk whimpering, what kind of joke is this_ , and then Eugene smiles into his neck. A hand in his hair stops Joe’s attempt to turn his face away from the two of them, forcing him to watch the way Babe slowly licks his bottom lip, eyes going between the different little moles and birthmarks speckled over Joe’s skin.

And, oh. Joe hates those, hates every blemish. He pretends like he likes them, because he pretends to like every part of himself, always, forever, but he hates them. That’s why he didn’t mention it, didn’t want to scare them off, but he fucking should have, oh God he should have, he should—

“He’s almost as freckled as you are, _chaton,_ ” Eugene says with a delighted little laugh. Babe leans forward the width of a hair, before catching himself, flicking his eyes up to Eugene’s pleadingly. “You can, sweetie, go ahead.”

Babe goes slowly, inching closer to Joe’s skin, and then gently, carefully, kisses the brown freckle on Joe’s left collarbone. Its little twin on the other side gets a kiss too, and then Babe starts making his way down his chest, pressing his lips over the small little marks and spots speckled all over him.

It’s borderline tender, all dry, warm lips, no tongue, no teeth, not even a touch of his fingertips to guide him as he moves down Joe’s body. And of course Eugene picks up on the way Joe goes very, very still, because the hand in his hair tightens and he’s treated to a kiss high on his cheek, in front of his ear. 

“You’re so pretty, Joseph,” Eugene says, and then immediately tugs on Joe’s hair when it makes him close his eyes. “No. Keep your eyes open. Look at him, look at how pretty he thinks you are. You think he looks at every boy that comes his way like that? You think I’d let him do this to just anyone?”

Joe doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he thanks the fucking gods that Gene doesn’t make him. He’s already feeling a bit lost, watching Heffron literally map him out in kisses, moving lower and lower, until he arrives at the splotchy birthmark Joe has on his hip. His ma used to joke that it was a star, because he was a star, but then he grew up and realised it was just a fucking smudge.

But Babe ends his little journey there, presses one last kiss into the mark before looking up at Eugene and Joe with big, round eyes. None of them speak for a few moments, just breathing together. Then Gene licks a stripe into Joe’s neck at the same time that Babe sticks his own pink little tongue out and drags it across what’s visible of the soft skin just above Liebgott’s pubic bone, before latching his mouth onto Joe’s other hip.

He nips at the pale skin for a second before licking it better and starting to gently suck at the spot like— he’s fucking giving Lieb a matching mark. Joe doesn’t know what to do. He tries turning his head, but he can’t fucking get anywhere, so he tries looking up into the ceiling, but of course Eugene isn’t gonna let that shit fly all of a sudden.

Gene turns Joe’s head around until their eyes lock, and there’s— There’s some stuff there. It’s been a while since Joe actually fucking looked the man in the face, between the kissing and the choking and the crippling insec— _the fucking nothing_. 

Between it all, Joe hasn’t really had a good time to look at Eugene, but now he can’t fucking look away.

Eugene’s face is calm, and controlled, because when is he ever not the fucking poster child for fucking self-assuredness, but his eyes are dark and his lips are red and swollen, like he hasn’t stopped biting them this whole time. He’s also looking at Joe like he’s all that matters, and it’s— It’s a bit much, but fuck if Joe doesn’t get caught up in it after half a fucking second.

They just stay like that for a little bit, Eugene cool like a fucking cucumber, Joe struggling to even breathe without it coming out all shaky and shivery. Add to it that Eugene drags his hand down the centre of Joe’s chest, over his stomach, down the lower part of his abdomen, starting to stroke along the hem of his jeans. 

“Babe, sweetie,” Gene says, and Babe pulls his head up with a wet pop and a curious hum immediately. God, he’s so fucking whipped. Joe envies him, in a pathetic way. It must be nice to trust someone like that. “You ready to show Joseph how sorry you are, now?”

“Yeah, Gene,” Babe responds right away, and Eugene smiles. He still doesn’t break his eye contact with Joe though, and it’s making something curl low in his stomach. Anticipation, fear, hope, dread, he doesn’t know, but it’s growing as Gene unbuttons his trousers with one very confident hand. 

“Take his clothes off, then, _chérie_.” There it is again. They might as well be calling Joe ‘it’ because that’s how he feels, objectified and used and put on display, and Eugene is cocking an eyebrow like he’s challenging Liebgott to say anything about it. 

Which he doesn’t, of course, because he’s a coward and a loser and he’s too aware of the fact that Babe is wasting absolutely no time pulling his last clothes off, and now he’s also naked in the middle of two men who are still fully dressed. It doesn’t matter that Babe immediately puts his head back between Lieb’s thighs, or that Eugene is still only looking him in the eyes, or that Babe moans like he’s two seconds away from salivating.

He feels scared, and ashamed, of everything and anything, literally all that he comes to think of, and he still doesn’t know what Eugene has in mind, what he’s going to make Babe do. Joe suddenly remembers that this wasn’t even Babe’s fault to begin with, and— Jesus, he’s such an asshole.

Joe deserves every bit of exposure he feels right now, so he doesn’t fight as he’s gently manoeuvred higher up on Gene’s lap, so that his legs are spread like he’s an actual fucking whore, because he’s not that far from it, is he? 

He doesn’t know how much of this emotional trainwreck is showing on his face, but it must be a lot. All Eugene does, though, is to bump their noses together, gently running a knuckle over the line of his jaw. “You’re so fucking pretty,” Eugene whispers, “isn’t he, Babe? Our pretty little boy, so fucking brave and good for us, isn’t he?”

“The loveliest,” Babe breathes into where he’s nuzzling into one of Joe’s legs. He sounds impatient, and it makes Joe’s heart beat faster. “Gene—“ 

“Soon, kitten,” Gene hushes him, too busy dragging his eyes over every inch of Liebgott’s face. “You ready to see just how brave our little sweetheart can really be?”

Babe hums in response, and Eugene lets Joe’s jaw be to instead put his hand on Joe’s hip, slowly pressing his fingers down the crease where his thigh ends. It’s apparently all the permission that Babe needs, because the boy starts kissing a wet line down the inside of his thigh like he’s hungry, letting out little impatient moans.

It should be gross, but it somehow manages to be adorable, because Babe Heffron is apparently fucking incapable of doing anything that isn’t endearing. Joe hates it, and he hates the way Eugene is looking at him, and he hates that he’s still hard enough to ache from it, because his body doesn’t find anything wrong with this situation at all.

Fuck, it’s the most exhilarating moment of his life, and Joe doesn’t care, he’s closing his eyes. He leans his head back on Gene’s shoulder, letting himself pant like he’s been dying to do for what feels like hours, feeling Babe’s soft, wet, warm mouth work it’s way down, in. He’s moving across sensitive skin, sending stronger shivers through Joe’s body, making him arch his back in a way that lets him clearly feel that Eugene is also very affected by this whole situation.

Between Gene’s erection pressing against the small of his back and Babe’s mouth slowly moving closer to his dick, Joe lets himself relax. Babe pauses just before actually getting there, fuck, he’s so close, Joe can feel his breath on his skin, please—

“Go ahead,” Eugene says, and Joe could cry, thank fuck.

But Babe doesn’t move up, instead pressing a kiss to where Joe’s ass is far too exposed, one soft hand coming up to touch him, and no, fuck— No—

“No, no no no, don’t, fuck,” he’s rambling, trying to struggle but being held back by a pair of strong arms, his thighs held open by Eugene’s muscular legs. _They’d talked about it_ , a part of him reminds him, but Joe feels like— he feels— “It’s filthy, it’s me— I’m— I’m too dirty, don’t, I can’t, please—“

Babe moved away the second Joe twitched, so he’s speaking to Eugene right now, screwing his eyes shut and really fucking trying not to cry, and he’s so fucking pathetic, he can’t fucking think.

“Joseph, Joe,” Eugene is mumbling in his ear, voice calm and steady and sweet, holding Joe close and still and too safe to freak out properly. “Listen to me, calm down, breathe. With me, come on, in, in, there you go, and out, just like that, good boy, keep breathing. There you are, there’s my sweet little boy, shh, it’s okay, shh.”

“Gene—“ Joe almost sobs, because he can’t fucking deal with this. “Please—“

“You wanna stop, we stop,” Eugene says, and Joe believes him, but he also doesn’t fucking want to stop. “But Joe, listen to me, listen— You’re not filthy. No,” he says when Joe whines, wrestling them around until Liebgott has no choice but to look at him, at those still, steady fucking eyes. Joe hates him. He hates this, and he hates that he doesn’t fucking deserve this shit, doesn’t deserve them, doesn’t deserve all this kindness.

“You’re not filthy.” Joe tries to talk, but Eugene interrupts him, which is probably for the best anyway. “You think I would do this if you were? You think I would let Babe lay his mouth on you if you were fucking dirty, Joe? Do you think I would do that to him?”

Joe has a hard time breathing. “No,” he says, voice sounding small and weak, but he says it anyway because of course he does. He’s not blind. He knows how Eugene looks at Babe, like he hung the fucking sun in the sky, like he’d walk over coals to make him happy, “but—“

“You think our taste is that fucking bad, Joe?” Eugene continues, not caring to hear whatever self-loathing bullshit would come out of Joe’s mouth. “You think I’d let some piece of filth in our bed, let Babe kiss it all over, tell it it was gorgeous and wonderful and make him agree with me? You think I’d do that to Babe? You think I’d do that to you? You think I’d ever let that happen?”

“No—“

“Good, because I wouldn’t.” There’s no room for compromise, and Joe screws his eyes shut. He’s trying real hard to get a fucking grip, but it’s slipping out of his hands very fucking fast. “I would never let someone get here if they weren’t fucking gorgeous. Because I love my boy, my Babe, and I only treat him to the best, and that means treating you to the best. You’re not filthy. You’re gorgeous. You’re a goddamned work of art, and I’m honoured to have you here, Lieb. We both are.”

A kiss is pressed into Joe’s jaw, and then Eugene is hugging him, pressing his head into Joe’s neck, stroking his thumbs over his skin gently. “If you wanna stop, we stop. We are not doing anything you don’t want to, I promise. But it’s not gonna be because you’re filthy, because you’re not, and nothing we do ever could be.”

Joe needs a fucking moment. He’s still panting, still fucking turned on, still feeling like his mind is being tugged very hard in two different directions. He doesn’t know what the fuck to do, wishes someone would make the decision for him, wishes Eugene would make it, or Babe, or David, or fucking anyone—

When he turns his face around, Gene is looking at him steadily, a fucking pillar of calm in Hurricane Joseph, and Joe clings to it. He stares at Gene with wide eyes, slowly relaxing into the arms holding him close, focusing on the exact spot where he can feel a steady heartbeat into his back. 

“There you are, pretty boy,” Eugene mumbles, looking down on Joe’s lips and then back up to his eyes. “You want us to stop, sweet thing?”

Joe tries to say something, he really does, but he can’t fucking get the words out, so he just shakes his head instead. Eugene presses a kiss to the side of Joe’s mouth, which is both too much and just ridiculously insufficient at the same time.

“That’s good, but I’m gonna need you to use words, here, sweetie,” Gene says, sounding gentle and soft, but fuck if it’s still not a little too much. Joe groans, not fucking wanting to have to use his fucking words, but of course Eugene doesn’t budge. “I know, Joe, I know. Come on, talk to me.”

“What do you want?” He asks in response, not having the wherewithals to feel self-conscious about the way his voice almost breaks. (That’s a lie. Joe absolutely feels self-conscious about it.)

“That’s what I need you to tell me, Joseph,” Eugene mumbles, rubbing his head against his neck, not letting him go but not moving them a single step forward, either. It’s oddly secure, the knowledge that they’re kinda stuck here until he budges, and viciously infuriating. “You remember the safewords?”

“For fuck’s sake—“

“I need you to tell me,” Gene interrupts him, not having a single lick of patience but still somehow sounding very soft as he does it. “You remember?”

“I remember the fucking word, Doc,” he spits at the ceiling, the feeling of Gene humming behind him taking the whole edge of it off, “I don’t wanna fucking say it.”

He feels Eugene looking at him, forces himself to meet his eyes. _Come on, Joe,_ he tells himself, _let’s be adults and communicate and let other people not fucking worry because your ass is a mess, how about that_.

But then Gene mumbles, “God, you’re beautiful,” and it kind of pulls Joe out of what he’s thinking. Fuck this man and his doctor-lying-abilities, being able to say this kind of shit with a straight face. “I swear you could be the sweetest thing I ever laid my eyes on.”

It’s at this point that Joe is reminded that they’re not actually alone, here, because there’s a small shuffling noise coming from the mattress between his legs. Fuck, right, Babe is here, and he’s also been treated to front row seats to this mess. Joe thinks he’s going to cry again, but Gene laughs behind him, because he is a fucking enigma of a man.

“So jealous. What do you say, pretty boy, you think we should let him back in?” Eugene is speaking straight into Liebgott’s ear, all low and level, lips brushing against Joe’s skin as he talks. It’s making him squirm on Gene’s lap, the man moving smoothly along with him which is both reassuring and frustrating because Joe doesn’t want comfort, he wants to grind.

“Look at him, Joseph,” Gene mumbles, and Joe does, looks down at Babe who’s still lying between his legs like— like a— he doesn’t have a word for it. “Look at how bad he wants it, sweet boy, look at how badly he wants to be allowed to put his mouth on you.”

And God, Joe sees it. Babe’s face is wide open, eyes glassy and wet, that soft mouth parted, spit or sweat or both making his bottom lip glisten. His red hair is a complete mess, making him look even more innocent than usual, and he’s trembling all over, like he’s having to manually override himself. Babe looks like he really fucking wants it.

“Think we should let him?” Eugene asks him, and Babe swallows. God, he’s so fucking out of it, it’s the best thing Joe has ever seen, apart from the way Webster had looked at him the first time Joe said he loved him. “Think we should let him show you just how desperate he is to touch you?”

Babe fucking whimpers, and Joe feels so bad for him, wants to feel it, wants to feel what it feels like to have all that want directed at him. He nods shakily, and is instantly rewarded by a series of kisses to his neck and another little moan from Babe. 

He did that. Joe did that. Joe made that fucking noise come out of Babe fucking Heffron, from the idea of letting him put his fucking tongue on Joe’s—

“Go ahead, then, _chérie_ , you heard him,” Eugene is saying and Joe can’t. He forces himself to stare up into the off-white ceiling, because he cannot live his life knowing what it looks like when Babe Heffron goes down on him.

His brain is still screaming at him, very loudly, because what the fuck is he doing, how can he, who gave him the fucking right, he shouldn’t—

“Don’t think, sweet boy,” Eugene says. There are soft, gentle hands on Joe’s ass, spreading him open, and he closes his eyes, because Jesus Christ— “Listen to me, let go, listen to Babe, sweetheart, there you go—“

The first press of Babe’s tongue on his ass stuns him silent. Then he does it again, licks a broad stripe with the flat of his tongue, and fucking moans into it, and Joseph Liebgott is a goner.

He starts crying, because there’s nothing left stopping him. He’s spread apart, held down, there’s a tongue in his ass and one on his neck, and he’s being called _sweetheart_ , and he’s so hard he doesn’t know what to do with himself and no one has even touched his dick yet. 

Joe doesn’t know how the fuck to handle all of this, so he presses his face into Eugene’s, and he lets out some kind of ungodly noise, and he cries.

There are lips, soft and wet and sweet, pressing against his, and Joe moans into the kiss, honest-to-God mewls into it. Joe arches his back, not losing the touch for a second, and for the first time in a long while actually thinks about what he’s doing with his hands, if only because he fists one into Gene’s hair weakly to make sure he doesn’t move away.

Not that Eugene seems like he’d want to, by the way he’s moving his mouth against Joe’s. It’s starkly different from his soft exchange with Babe earlier, full of tongue and teeth and groaning, but somehow no less tender.

There’s a hand on his dick suddenly, thank fuck, but it’s only for a moment and then the mouth on his ass is pulled away.

Joe is about to change his reasons for crying, but then Eugene is saying, “get him wet for me, _minou_ , good boy, then you can get back,” not speaking to Joe. Then, not more than a second passes before that same mouth from earlier is swallowing his cock down like it’s an Olympic sport.

“Look, you pretty boy, look at him,” Eugene says, nudging at Joe’s face until he opens his eyes weakly. “Look at how much he likes you, how fucking much he loves this, loves doing this for you.”

He tries, he really tries, but Joe has a hard time seeing anything right now. It’s a mixture of the tears in his eyes and being overrun with a lot of feelings. The way that his head is an actual wreck aside, _[Insert Blasphemous Phrase Here]_ is Babe good at what he’s doing. Lieb wants him to give classes on it. He’d pay money to have him tutor him on the art of fellatio, holy shit, no wonder Eugene treats him like he’s the most important person to ever walk the earth if he experiences this on a regular basis.

His mouth is tight and soft and velvety, and he just keeps pressing his head down, like it’s nothing. And look, not that Joe is a fucking specimen, he’s not claiming to be, but fucking hell, does the man just not have a gag reflex? 

The muscles of Babe’s throat contract around him, his tongue pressing into the bottom of Joe’s dick, lips not only against the skin of his stomach but pushing into it, like he’s trying to get more of him down. It’s like getting your dick sucked by a fucking snake, which sounds gross, but Liebgott would absolutely tattoo _zoophiliac_ into his forehead for Babe at this point.

There are tears running from the corners of Babe’s eyes, and it makes Joe’s heart clench, because that’s not fair. Babe shouldn’t be crying, he should be happy, should never be given a reason to not be smiling or relaxed or pleased. Joe wants to go back, back to when Babe was making little happy noises under him, back to when he was looking comfortable and taken care of under Eugene.

He makes some kind of noise, not sure what, but it must be clear enough for Gene to press a little kiss to his ear and ask “what is it, sweet thing? What’s wrong?” 

Joe lets go of Eugene’s hair to reach out for Babe with his shaking hand, rubbing a soft thumb across the wet spot on his cheek. Almost like it was permission, Babe pulls his mouth off of Joe’s dick — which sends another ache of need into his stomach — and pants for air through very red lips.

He looks up at Joe with wide, glassy eyes, eyelashes clumped up with tears, struggling to catch his breath. Babe looks like a fucking wreck, not helped by the way Joe’s exaggerating his shivering with the way his hand is trembling like a fucking leaf.

Babe does nothing, just sits there and stares at Liebgott, breathing heavy and silently crying, waiting for someone to tell him what to do. It makes Joe’s heart break a little, because he looks so fucking lost, but still like he trusts the other two to know what they’re doing here.

Joe has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. To say that he feels a little inadequate would be the understatement of the fucking year, because he has no fucking clue how to give Babe back a happy face. 

So he does what any reasonable man would do. He whines, high and long and just way excessive, hoping that Eugene will take pity on him and swoop in and fix this. Because surely, Eugene knows what to do? Surely he has a grasp on this? Surely he, too, finds this unacceptable?

His cry for help is answered, but not in the way he wants, because Eugene rubs his nose against Joe’s jaw like everything’s fine and. No, it’s not fine, don’t nuzzle Joe, nuzzle Babe, Babe needs to be nuzzled and held and—

“He loves it, I promise,” Gene says at the same time that Babe leans his head into Joe’s hand with a little frown and a whine. It sends another wave of unease through his stomach, but Eugene hushes him gently. “I think he’s more worried that you’re sounding unhappy, Joseph.” When that doesn’t help very much, the man just sighs deeply. “Oh, we can’t have this. _Chérie,_ come here, sweetheart, my good boy.”

Eugene doesn’t have to say much more, putting out a beckoning hand of his own, before Babe is crawling his way up Joe’s body and presses their mouths together. Joe holds him close, moans into it, immediately lets Babe’s tongue nudge his lips open as they share the world’s sloppiest kisses between them.

It’s like a reassurance, both of them whimpering to each other, hands running over one another, checking. Lieb feels himself grow more and more comforted with every slide of their mouths together, every press of Babe’s damp cheeks against his, every little sigh he makes. 

Behind him, Gene groans something in French that Joe doesn’t understand, but it makes Babe smile, so he doesn’t bother saying something bitchy about it. Besides, he’s too busy melting into the way Babe is pressing into him, all soft and pleased and kissing him like his life depends on it.

“Fuck, you two are so fucking good, _mon Dieu_ —“ Eugene says, sounding out of breath as he cards one hand through Babe’s hair, making him hum contentedly into Joe’s mouth. “You want to fuck our boy, _minou_? Want to show him just how good he is?” 

Joe feels himself flush bright red, because this suddenly took a very fast turn for the— whatever this is. But Babe is just nodding and moaning and mumbling little pleads into Liebgott’s mouth, seemingly very fine with this turn of events.

“Please, Gene, I want, please, can I?” He begs, and Joe feels the hand that’s been holding his head in place move, slowly dragging down his chest and stomach. He knows where this is going, literally, and so he’s moaning before those fingers even wrap around his dick. 

He rolls his hips into it, Eugene twists his hand, Babe realises what’s going on and gets out a broken “ _Gene,_ ” and Joe needs another time-out. He breaks the kiss to lean his head back on Eugene’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath. 

The skin of Gene’s hand is soft, has to be for his job, probably, and it’s creating just the right amount of friction as he slowly strokes him. He almost wonders if Eugene lubed himself up at some point, or if Babe really just did drool that much on him, because his grip is wonderfully slick and smooth in a way he’s not always had the luck of getting from non-circumcised guys.

Eugene takes his time, because when the fuck does he not, with long, slow jerks of his fist from the root of Joes cock to the tip. He doesn’t ease up at the head, rolling his palm over it, stays just as tight and firm every inch of the way, and it’s torture but it’s also fucking brilliant. 

Of course Babe isn’t happy to have had his make-out session interrupted, and he deals with it by instead latching his mouth onto Joe’s neck. Lieb wonders if it was a mistake to give hickeys a thumbs up earlier — Eugene had looked sorry for him when he said that, which he’d thought was a bit much at the time — because Babe is acting like his only way to survive is by marking Joe’s skin up for filth.

He isn’t going to ask him to stop, though, because it feels fantastic. Joe’s got one hand lifted up to grasp at Eugene’s hair, and the other on the back of Babe’s head, holding it in place. They’re anchoring him between them, slowly pulling him apart with their hands and mouths and Babe’s little moans against his neck and Eugene’s French smut breathed into his ear.

Joe has never felt so fucking safe in his life, and he kind of stops paying attention because it’s so nice to sink into the feeling of it all. He can tell that Eugene is doling out orders, because his voice goes sharp in that sweet way, and Babe starts kissing his way back down Joe’s chest with urgency. 

For a few moments he thinks he’s about to get his mouth back on him, groaning in anticipation and steeling himself, but the hand on his dick doesn’t move out of the way. There’s a noise like someone flicks a bottle open, and Eugene struggles around a little to be able to turn Joe’s face over with a gentle touch.

Gene looks calm, still, and it’s almost making Lieb laugh because what the fuck kind of material did they carve him out of? He only gets a smile out, but he’s not annoyed about it because Eugene smiles back at him. 

He’s not entirely unbothered, either. Joe can see it in the way his eyes are blown wide and dark, the way his breathing is almost mechanical, the way his lips are bright red and swollen from being chewed on.

“What do you say?” Eugene asks, and Joe has no fucking idea what he’s talking about. “Think Babe has earned it?”

Oh, he doesn’t need to know what Gene is on about to know the answer to that. Joe nods, heavy but enthusiastically, tries to really communicate how much Babe has earned all the good things in the world with it. Eugene’s gaze is slowly flicking between Joe’s eyes, a wide smile spreading on his face.

“You sweet thing, you’re there now, aren’t you?” Gene says with a laugh, and Joe laughs back into the kiss he gets. It’s said with warmth and fondness and he feels it wash over him like it’s actual praise and not some kind of half-joking nonsense he doesn’t understand. “Go on, _chaton_ , I’ll make sure we’re good.”

Joe wants to nuzzle his face into Eugene’s neck, feels warm and sated and just happy to be here getting a very slow handjob and sharing giggles with the two of them, but Gene pulls back before he can manage. He doesn’t get to ask why before there’s a cool, slick finger slowly pressing into his ass, making him shoot his eyes back open.

Eugene’s gaze meets his immediately, his fingers squeezing Joe’s dick gently while Babe presses kisses into his thighs and teases the rim of his asshole carefully. Joe doesn’t know what to say, just kind of pants as Babe starts working him open.

He’s already so relaxed Babe barely has to even check before adding a second finger, and that’s when Joe starts moaning. It’s not even terribly tight, nor is it rough or hard or fast, but that’s the thing, isn’t it? Babe moves slowly, forces him to feel every millimetre, to really appreciate just how sensitive his skin had been coaxed to become under Babe’s tongue earlier.

That thought alone would probably be enough to send his mind places, but then those fingers reach that spot inside him, and it’s relaxing and soothing the ache in the pit of his stomach. Joe closes his eyes with a little sigh, hearing Eugene hum above him. 

“I think he liked that, sweetheart, do it again,” Gene says, because he’s an asshole like that. Unfortunately, of course Babe is also an asshole because he obliges immediately. It’s not half a second before he’s pressing his fingertips flat against Joe’s prostate, slowly increasing the pressure as the move pulls a low groan out of him. “Good boy, that’s it. Keep doing that, just like that, he’ll be ready for you in no time, _chérie_.”

They’re doing it again, acting like Joe isn’t even really there, but again he has a hard time objecting to it. Eugene’s hand has slowed down to the point where he’s not even really moving it anymore, just kind of holding Joe’s cock in a firm grip for him to attempt to thrust into. He starts really longing for the friction, growing more and more desperate in the way he rolls his hips shallowly as Babe fingers his ass open with excruciating patience.

Bit by bit, Babe gets three digits in. It’s slick with way more lube than Joe is used to, Babe carefully making sure he has no burn to hiss at, no real stretch to push back against. It’s just gentle pressure, slowly coaxing his ass open, massaging his sweet spot until it feels swollen and sensitive and Joe can’t fucking think under it all.

At some point Eugene gets tired of the way his arms kind of flail around between them, and he’s let go of Joe’s dick entirely to be able to hold his wrists in place on his chest. When he does that, it removes the last tether Joe had to his self-control and he finds himself with no defences left.

In other words, when he feels Babe start to press a fourth finger into him, Joe presses his mouth into Eugene’s ear and fucking whimpers with frustration. He doesn’t want this, can’t deal any more, he wants— he needs— _Fuck_ , he can’t put words on it even inside his own head, he has no idea, just something, anything that’s more than this.

Some of this seems to translate into the whimper, because Eugene presses a soothing kiss to Joe’s forehead and then sits up a little straighter behind him.

“Okay, that’s enough, sweetheart,” he says and thank shit on a cracker, because Joe is actually about to perish with the need to get a fucking dick in him, “I think he’s ready. Take your clothes off, kitten, I’ll take care of him.”

The fingers are pulled out of his ass and Eugene finally lets Joe close his legs, softly pushing and pressing on him with steady hands until he’s turned over and lying face-to-face with Gene. Their chests move against each other as they kind of breathe in the same space for a second, before Joe slides down to press his cheek against Gene’s chest with another little whimper. 

He’s so warm, and Lieb hadn’t even realised that he was kind of getting cold where he was, but now that he’s pressed up against Eugene’s chest and the fabric of his shirt, it’s hard to think about anything else. Gene makes what’s almost a coo, a pitying and apologetic little noise as Joe pushes himself into the warmth. 

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, we’ll keep you warm,” he’s mumbling, trying to coax Joe into whatever position it is he wants him. “Come here, you pretty thing, on your knees, come here, good boy—“

Joe does, pushes himself up on shaking knees, but keeps his face on Eugene’s chest until a hand gently pulls him up and he’s getting a kiss pressed to his lips. Gene then guides his head back down, into his neck, and Joe bundles his arms up behind Gene’s neck and buries into him.

The shame comes back, building up with waves, as Eugene gets him to spread his knees apart. He can hear Babe shuffle round behind him, breathing slowly from where he’s probably watching— watching Joe—

Taking a deep breath, and pressing his burning face harder into Gene’s neck, Joe forces himself not to think about it. It’s hard, and he hears it picking at the back of his head, the spiralling part of him desperately trying to get him to lose his footing.

“Arch your back, sweetie,” Eugene says softly, rubbing his cheek on the back of Joe’s head. “God, if you could see what Babe looks like right now, the way he looks at you. You’re so pretty, Joseph, so fucking beautiful and gorgeous, so fucking brave, letting me give you away like this.”

There’s a hand on the small of his back, gently pressing on his spine until he curves it, no doubt putting on one fucking hell of a display, because Babe makes a trembling little noise behind him. “Please,” is all the boy actually manages to say, though, obviously struggling to even get that out.

“You hear that, Joseph?” Gene asks, rubbing Joe’s spine with two knuckles. His other hand is cradling Liebgott’s head, stroking his hair, assuring him he can keep hiding in Eugene’s neck. “You hear how badly he wants to be allowed to fuck you? You hear what you’re doing to him right now, how fucking ruined he is just looking at you and how fantastic you look?”

Babe makes another noise, another pleading little thing, and Joe thinks he hears it, wonders exactly what Babe is looking like right now. If he’s desperate, or excited, or stunned, or possessive. He wonders if his eyes are wide and glassy, or half-lidded and hazy, if he’s looking at Eugene’s face or right at—

No. Not going there. Joe shivers a little, takes a deep breath, turns his head a little so that his forehead is leaned on Eugene’s shoulder rather than buried in his neck. It earns him a little scratch down his neck, Gene moving both his hands to the bottom of his spine.

“Keep your back arched, just like that. Show our sweet little Babe just how much you want him, there you go, good boy,” and more like it, a gentle stream of encouragement that Joe clings to with every bit of consciousness he has left in him. Eugene’s hands are rubbing calming circles over Joe’s back and hips, down over his ass, palms flat and soft over his burning skin.

“Come here, kitten,” Gene says and then nonchalantly uses his hands to firmly spread Joe’s ass open. Joe whimpers, and behind him Babe moans like he’s dying, like the sight of Joseph Liebgott on his knees with his asshole presented to the world is somehow breaking him.

Not that Joe can blame him, really. Instant death is probably the only reasonable reaction to that, because it is what Joseph himself is longing for over here.

There’s not a single part of him that thinks to say the word, though, and he doesn’t know what the fuck that says about him.

He could make them stop, right now, if he wanted to. For all that he’s feeling about as powerful as a fucking ant between the two of them, Joe truly and deeply believes that any noise coming out of him even resembling the word “red” would get Babe and Eugene pressing the brakes so fucking hard they’d probably give all three of them whiplash.

He could make them stop, and they know this. Everything that’s happening is happening with the unconditional assumption that Liebgott will tell them if he doesn’t want to do this anymore.

He could make them stop, but he doesn’t. 

Joe doesn’t say the word, doesn’t want to say the word, doesn’t want this to stop despite the humiliation and the degradation and the way that he knows Babe can see everything. He feels the muscles in his rim twitch, and Babe breathes in at the sight, and Eugene laughs, and Joe thinks he’s about to cry because this is fucking cruel. It’s downright obscene.

But he’s still harder than he probably has ever been in his life (sorry, David) when Eugene, laughter in his voice, says, “you’re always so greedy, kitten boy. But go ahead, you may,” and forces Joe’s asshole to stretch out further between his hands.

It’s not half a second later when Babe Heffron’s fucking tongue is back on him, lapping a broad, flat stripe across the exposed ring of muscle. Joe is going to cry, with zero sadness and all humiliation, because any hinder that the awkward angle and Lieb’s squirming posed earlier is very much missing this time around.

This time around, Babe has all the access he could ever want, and he enjoys himself accordingly. There are kisses being pressed into Joe’s skin, the tip of a tongue teasingly ghosting over him, making him shiver and tremble and twitch while also struggling to breathe. 

He’s expecting it, knows it must be coming, tries to prepare, but when that same tongue tip firmly presses into him Joe finds himself biting into Eugene’s shoulder. He doesn’t mean to, really, but he needs something to keep himself grounded, and this is the only thing that seems within his power.

“Fuck—“ Gene hisses, the surprise clear in his voice, and for a second both Joe and Babe go still in hesitation. But then Eugene takes a deep, shivering breath, and with a noticeable drop in his voice says, “keep going, Babe, I think he liked that. Show him what it really feels like to be treated like a slut, that’s it, sweetie, fuck our pretty little Joseph with your tongue and then you can fuck him with anything you want.”

Let no one ever say that Heffron doesn’t obey orders to the T. 

His mouth is back on Joe so fast he’s not given any time to react to it, a damp breath on him all the warning he gets before Babe’s tongue presses into him with fucking determination. It’s wet and soft and sloppy and terrible, sending shivers through his reptile brain because _this is not a Thing that is supposed to Happen_ , but it’s also phenomenal.

Jesus, he could come at this alone, this and the way Eugene Roe called him a slut echoing in his head. Joe doesn’t even realise he’s making noise until Gene shushes him, voice amused and tense and filled with something else he can’t put a good word on.

“Oh, you really liked that, didn’t you?” Eugene asks him, and it’s on just the perfect side of mocking for Joe to almost sob at the sound. “That’s it, Babe, that’s enough now. Here, _mon chouchou_ , climb on top of him, fuck him, come on—“

Babe is groaning as he pulls his head away from Joe’s ass and finally moves up his body until he’s kneeling behind Lieb. He leans in to give Eugene a kiss, his chest feverishly warm where it’s pressing against Joe’s back. 

Joe tries to press into the heat, but that draws a dissatisfied noise from Gene, who pulls out of the kiss decidedly. “You keep your back arched, pretty boy. Come on, _chérie_ , before he forgets himself entirely.”

Babe presses one last kiss to the back of Joe’s neck before pulling back. He runs a careful finger over Joe’s asshole, like he just wants to hear Joe whimper, and then he’s finally, finally, pressing the head of his dick against it.

It’s been a pretty long time coming, getting to feel Babe’s hard cock push into him, and Joe feels himself practically turn to putty between the two of them. Eugene moves one of his hands, apparently not needing to hold him quite as obscenely spread open any more, and gently tugs Joe’s head back from where he’s still got his teeth latched on to the thick muscle of his shoulder.

“Here, look at me, let me see how beautiful you look,” Gene says. Joe doesn’t even have it in him to close his mouth, sees the teeth marks in Eugene’s shoulder and the string of spit running from it to where his tongue is all but hanging out of his mouth. His eyes lock with Eugene’s, and for the first time the man seems to truly falter in his facade, because— “ _Oh._ ”

As Babe puts a hand on Joe’s shoulder, holding him in place as he slowly buries himself in Joe’s ass, pressing their hips flush together, Eugene isn’t looking up at him. He’s looking down, at Joe, with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. 

Gene’s pupils are blown wide and he looks downright hungry at whatever it is he finds in Liebgott’s face, but his voice could very well be the most tender thing Joe has ever heard when he breathes out, “oh, you are perfect.”

Joe doesn’t know what the fuck to say to that, so he says nothing. Behind him, Babe tries out a roll of his hips. It’s slow and deep and amazing, and it makes them both moan. Lieb can feel his cheeks twitch, but he forces himself to keep his eyes open, to keep looking at Gene’s stunned face while Babe starts to fuck him.

Babe does that in the same way that he’s done everything so far, which is _ridiculously_. He uses his hands, one on Joe’s shoulder, the other on his hips, to hold him in place as he starts to take him apart with a ruthless thoroughness that is downright cruel.

He fucks Joe with careful, gentle movements, but also deep and hard and with almost painful precision, pulling almost all the way out before using his leverage on Joe’s body to press back in. It’s fast and rough but also excruciatingly intense, making him feel every inch of it, over and over, and over again.

Of course Babe, as the needy fucking bottom slut he is, would know how to hit someone’s prostate on every thrust — Joe knows he’s going to be able to come from this alone after the third time Babe bottoms out in him. 

Fuck, he’s barely even a person at this point, panting and whining and about three thrusts away from honest-to-blog drooling all over Eugene.

And Eugene, oh, that’s its own story. The man is looking at Joe like he’s fucking hypnotised, and he does it when Joe’s too out of it to even enjoy the fact that he fucking managed to break him, at last. They’re locked in the most intense staring contest in the history of the world, both of them acting like it might actually kill them to break eye contact.

At some point Babe must notice and get sick of their behaviour, because he half-grunts, half-moans out a petulant little, “ _Eugene_.” Babe, too, sounds like a fucking wreck, but Joe can’t think of anything except the fact that the pace just picked up and he’s now kind of getting pounded to within an inch of his life.

“I’m sorry, _chérie_ , but if you could see him, you would understand,” Eugene says airily, and Babe gives another little grumbling whine above him. Gene snaps his eyes up then, and that breaks the spell Joe’s been under, closing his eyes with a groan as he tries to pull himself together. “Take a look, sweetheart, look at how fucking pretty he is.”

Joe isn’t even really paying attention, but he realises he should have been when there’s suddenly a hand on his throat, pulling him up, and up, and back and _shit_ —

It’s Babe who’s drawing him up, bending his spine until it’s almost hurting, forcing Joe’s head back until the skin on his chest and throat starts to pull, until he’s bent over backwards and Babe can get a good look at him.

The arching of his back, the way it makes his ass press back into Babe pushes his cock so deep into Joe he honestly thinks he’s going to black out from the combined feelings of it all. And then their eyes lock, and they stare at each other for a few moments.

Babe’s just as red as he’s been this entire time, but there’s a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and his top lip, and his hair is just— a fucking story of its own. But Joe can’t look away from his wide eyes, the way his jaw works without getting any actual words out.

He rocks against Joe carefully, like it’s just a test, and the feeling of it makes Lieb’s breath hitch into something that’s not quite a sob, but not particularly far from it.

“Oh,” Babe says, and does it again, and Joe is going to fucking die. Babe looks like he’s just seen a miracle. “Oh, Joe, you’re— He’s lovely, Genie.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Eugene responds, sounding equally reverent but significantly more aware. Whereas Babe seems to be acting entirely on instinct, Gene is sounding proud and awed and decided, and it’s all a little much.

“Oh, Gene, can we keep him?” Babe asks, still rocking them together slowly, like he’s not being affected nearly as much by being balls deep in Joe's ass as the look on Joe's face and the way he now has to wheeze out every breath. “Please, I want— I want to keep him always, can we, please?”

“No, _minou_ ,” Eugene laughs, making Babe pout, “I’d love it, too, but he’s not ours to keep. We’ve just gotten to borrow him for a little while, but he has someone who loves him very much, and we have to give him back when we’re done with him. That’s why it’s so important to take good care of him, _mon cher_ , because we want to make sure his love gets him back whole and happy.”

“I’m jealous,” Babe whispers, but seems to accept Eugene’s reasoning, because he lets Joe go back down carefully.

Joe ends up on his hands and knees, staring at Eugene through his tears and with a trembling bottom lip. He feels pretty fucking close to crumbling, and by the way Gene puts one very soft hand onto his cheek, he most likely looks it, too.

“We’re so fucking lucky,” Gene says gently, stroking the clumped-up tears from Joe’s bottom lashes. “So lucky to be allowed to see you like this, sweetie, to be allowed to treat you like this, to be allowed to make you feel like this. You’re a treasure, Joseph, pretty boy, and we’re so incredibly lucky to have you.”

He says it like he means it. Eugene looks Joe in the eye and tells him he’s a treasure the same way he tells Babe he’s not allowed to have coffee, and orders him a milkshake instead. He says it the same way he says that it’s time for them to call it a night, go home, get Babe tucked in. He says it the same way he says _“I love you”_ to the only person Joe has ever seen Eugene Roe look truly enamoured by.

Fondly, calmly, sincerely, like it’s of the utmost importance that it’s understood and believed, because Gene doesn’t fuck around with this shit. And really, when faced with that, what is a man to do? 

Joe believes him. He groans and arches his back, moves with Babe best he can, looks into Eugene’s steady, proud eyes, and he truly believes that the two of them really want him to be here. He’s crying again, but there’s no burn, no lump in his throat, no shame. 

He moans and he cries and his head is filled with cotton candy as Eugene leans forward and kisses him, gently, deeply, like he’s something to be taken care of, and there’s not a lick of fucking shame in a single part Lieb’s trembling body.

Gene mumbles “God, you’re such a perfect little thing, Joseph” against his lips and Joe moans into it, turns it into a whine when Babe rolls his hips again. “Good boy, keep taking it, just like that. We wanna give you everything, sweetie, everything in the whole world, because you deserve it all. Right, _chérie?_ ”

Babe’s only response is to lean down and press a kiss into Joe’s spine, panting against his skin in quick, hot puffs of his breath. Not that Joe can blame him, both because his own breathing has been heavy for the last hour or however long it’s been, but also because Babe is fucking him like it’ll earn him a prize.

God, Joe really could come from this, feels the build-up in the pit of his stomach, the coiling of pleasure. It’s being fuelled and egged on by the sensation of being wanted, of being held between two men treating him like a fucking object of desire, a piece of fucking art.

He tells the pissy voice in his head to fuck off, because Joe’s enjoying himself here. Look, Babe and Eugene are a bit of a fucking power couple, whether they want to accept that fact or not, with how ridiculously good-looking and confident they are in both themselves and each other. To be invited into that is intoxicating.

They could get anyone they fucking wanted, treat them like garbage and probably still be thanked for it, but they picked Joe. They wanted Joe, and they’re treating him like they want him, Eugene kissing him slowly and Babe fucking him hard and deep, rocking him between them like he’s an extension of their love.

The coil in his stomach is pulling tighter and Joe whimpers at it, pressing himself firmer into Gene to give Babe more leverage to really use him up for all he’s worth. But his self-serving actions haven’t gotten him especially far up until now, and of course that’s not gonna change just because Joe wants to come on Babe’s dick. There are two fingers on his jaw and then Eugene is pressing him away with an amused glare on his face.

“Don’t you dare,” Gene tells him, voice firm despite the way his face softens when he sees whatever the fuck kind of expression is on Joe’s face. “You’re a good boy, Joseph, but I still expect you to behave. You got that?”

Joe nods, closing his eyes again, still panting but trying to reel himself in. A part of him wonders if Babe is angry at him, because despite the exchange that literally just happened in front of him, he isn’t easing up in the slightest.

That means that not only is Joe struggling to control himself, he also has to do it while steadily being fucked within an inch of his life. It’s not fantastic, but it’s also fucking brilliant. After five seconds of that, though, Eugene joins in by opening his big fucking mouth and deciding hey, this’ll be a fun time to talk Joe to death.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you come under Babe, sweetie. I’d love to see you quivering on his dick,” Gene says sweetly, and for about the twentieth time today, Joe thinks he’s going to die. “I know, darling, I know, but my boy has been very good to you and he deserves a reward. So here’s what’s going to happen.”

Eugene presses a kiss to Joe’s cheek, nuzzling into the side of his head, like what he’s saying is half a secret kept between them. “First Babe is going to come in you, and then I’m going to come in you, and if you take that like the good slut I know you want to be, maybe I’ll let you come down his perfect throat when we’re done. That sound good to you?”

Joe groans and Eugene laughs, because he apparently does that a lot in these situations. It feels good, though, a tether to cling to while Gene starts squirming his way out from under Liebgott. When he gets out, Joe leans down on his elbows, wanting to press his face into the warm spot left behind. 

Babe pauses in his movements, giving Joe a bit of time to fucking breathe and swallow around nothing. A kiss is pressed between his shoulder blades and then Eugene is moving his weight away, pausing to give Babe a few deep kisses by the sounds of it, keeping one warm hand on Joe’s back.

It’s like he doesn’t want Lieb to feel forgotten, which is the straw that gets him to bow his head and press his forehead into the mattress. Eugene is saying things to Babe, murmuring to him in a low voice and getting small, soft little noises in response, slowly stroking his hand over Joe’s spine. It’s a warm reminder that Gene isn’t leaving him alone, isn’t forgetting about him, soothing the small little sobs he’s still making into the duvet.

Then Gene moves away again, and the hand is gone, but is immediately replaced by Babe’s soft lips as he leans down to kiss his sweat-covered skin.

“You know I love you, Joe, right?” Babe says it happily, gently, while he presses down on Joe’s shoulders. It pushes his chest into the mattress, gives him absolutely no leverage for whatever the fuck is going to come next. “Not like David loves you, or like Gene loves me, but I love you. So does Gene. And we’re gonna take care of you.”

Joe groans at that, bunches his fists together and pushes them into the crown of his head, because he doesn’t know how to deal with this, still. Babe isn’t moving his hips yet, and the hand on Joe’s spine stays in place, but he does lean back from where he’s had his face pressed into Joe’s back. 

“Do you know it?” Babe asks him sweetly, pulling out of Joe’s ass in a slow move of his hips. Joe only responds by groaning into the sheets, and a deep sigh is the only warning he gets before a hand fists in his hair and his head is pulled back. “Joe, do you know I love you?”

Lieb would answer (no, sorry, that’s a lie. He absolutely would not respond to that) but Babe pushes back inside of him before he gets the chance, and at this angle it’s enough to fry his brain entirely. His spine is already curved to hell, and he’s wincing at the way his hair is being pulled, and the press of Babe’s body against his ass makes him feel like his back is going to break.

It’s wonderful, and he’s grimacing but also whimpering his way through it. Joe doesn’t respond, though, and Babe softly lets his head go. He presses his forehead into the sheets immediately, as Babe rolls his hips again.

“That’s no good, but it’s okay,” Babe says, leaning over like he’s reaching forward. Joe cracks an eye open and takes a look at what he’s doing, and barely has time to think “ _oh fuck, help me, oh God no—_ “ when he sees Babe getting a firm grip on the headboard. “I’ll just have to show you, and then you’ll know, and then you won’t have to doubt it again.”

The next time Babe pushes back into him, it’s not slow and sweet and tender. It’s still just as deep as before, but this time, Babe starts fucking him with a goddamned fervour. His hold on the bedframe gives him the purchase he needs to pound Joe like his life depends on it, and fucking hell, does he.

Joe doesn’t understand how the fuck a man can even keep going for this long — not that he knows how long it’s been, sure, but in his approximation Babe Heffron has been fucking his sore ass for about three days now. Regardless of how accurate that is, Babe really shouldn’t be able to up his fucking gears now.

But that’s what he does anyway, and really, Joe shouldn’t expect Babe, of all people, to adhere to the laws of logic. The hand he doesn’t have on the headboard comes to Joe’s shoulder, stopping him from moving away as Babe slams their hips together.

“God, you’re so lovely,” Babe says in a shaking voice, while Joe makes a noise akin to some kind of animal in pain. Not that he’s in pain, quite the opposite; Lieb’s head is swimming with about fifteen different kinds of pleasure. The torture is knowing he isn’t allowed to come yet, not until Eugene gives him permission, and _fuck_ — “you’re lovely when you cry, Joe, and when you’re in front of me, and— just— just always, always, always—“

It’s a good thing Babe likes it when he cries, then, because it’s fucking happening. Every nerve in his body is screaming and the only thing he hears is Babe’s sweet little voice, straining with effort, his own moans and the sound of skin hitting skin every time Heffron uses the headboard to pull himself forward against Joe’s ass. 

Actually, he thinks he might be hearing the headboard slamming into the wall, too. Or maybe that’s just his heartbeat roaring in his ears. He’s not sure.

Either way, he’s being given what might possibly be the hardest fuck he’s ever gotten in his life, and when that hand comes back into his hair and yanks his head back, Joe’s eyes might be rolling into his own head. It takes him a moment to even realise Babe is talking again, and even then it’s only because he tugs on Joe’s hair pointedly.

“Do you know,” Babe is saying like he’s repeating himself, “that I love you, Joe?”

He sounds frantic and kind of broken and still like he himself is under about fifteen layers of cotton, but also clear and determined to get an answer out of Joe.

“Yes,” he forces out, eyes pressed close in a wince. God, it’s the worst moment of his life. He never wants it to stop. “I know, Babe, I know, I fucking— I know!”

“Tell me,” he groans, lets go of Joe’s hair to lean on the mattress instead. “Tell me, Joe, you have to tell me, or I can’t—“

“You love me,” Joe whines. Babe groans behind him, hips just starting to stutter. Lieb’s head is swimming. “You love me— Fuck, you think I’m lovely, you love me, you—“

His hair is let go again, but Joe keeps his head up, trying to catch his breath as Babe shivers through his orgasm, draping himself over Lieb’s back as they rock together for a few moments. Then there are kisses, slow and soft and gentle, being pressed into Joe’s spine. 

“I do,” Babe is mumbling against his skin. “I do love you, Joe, so much, because you’re amazing. You’re amazing and beautiful and lovely and fantastic.”

“You love me,” Joe whispers again, and Babe hums in agreement and slowly begins to peel them apart. He immediately moves so they’re lying next to each other, but Lieb still feels very hollow — keep your gross-ass puns to yourself — and lonely, and he chokes on a sob in the throws of it. “You love me, you like me, you— Babe—“

There’s weight shifting on the mattress behind him, a pair of soft, strong arms on his arms pulling Joe back onto Eugene’s lap. He doesn’t know where the man came from, but he’s naked now, so that’s nice, he guesses.

“He does,” Gene says, and Joe realises he’s still blabbering on about Babe liking him. There’s blunt pressure against his asshole again, and then Eugene is pulling Joe down onto him, pushing himself into the space Babe’s left for him. “He loves you so much, Joe. He cares about you, and so do I, and we’re not letting you go until you believe it.”

Eugene is gentle where Babe wasn’t, and thank fuck for that because Joe is so sore and sensitive he doesn’t think he could survive another round of actual pounding. He’s not even being fucked so much as just kind of slowly rocked back and forth on Eugene’s lap, with kisses pressed into his shoulder and soft words murmured into his skin.

Gene treats him like he’s made of glass right now, and Joe can’t blame him, because he cracks immediately. A sob tears through him, so strong that the only thing keeping him upright is Eugene’s grip around his chest. There’s an arm around his throat, too, and he clings to it like it’s a lifejacket. 

He can’t think, completely lost under about a million different feelings. Joe feels like a washcloth, wrung out and floppy and, okay, he has no idea where he’s going with this, because he can’t fucking think. It’s like his mind has been buried under a mountain of pillows and cotton wool shoved into his ears. All he can think about is how hard his dick is and how Eugene keeps rutting them together and both their words ringing in his ear, and it’s like a safe little cradle that he’s crawling into.

There’s more talking going on outside of him, a few sweet words, and then there are kind hands on Joe’s cheek, a forehead leaned against his and a soft voice coaxing his mind up from his little pillow nest of uncertainty.

“Hey there, sweetie,” Babe says when Joe manages to finally lift his eyes and look at him. His head is hurting and he’s so hard he could weep to get a hand on him, is weeping about it, and Babe strokes his thumbs through the tear tracks. “I know, it’s a lot, I know, but you can take it. Yes you can,” he insists when Joe whimpers at him, “I know you can. Because you’re perfect.”

There are kisses being pressed into his forehead, his temples, the wet spots just underneath his eyes. Gene’s face is nudged against Joe’s neck, Babe is pressing his soft lips all over his jaw and Joe is panting and shivering like he’s an antelope crashing after trying to run away from a pack of lions.

But these are no lions who’ve caught him. “You’re strong, and brave, and beautiful and gorgeous,” Babe is whispering into Joe’s cheeks, the thin skin of his eyelids, his spit-wet lips. “You’re perfect, Joe, the most perfect person in the whole world.”

Joe tries to shake his head, pressing his eyelids closed and feeling a new set of tears run down his cheek. Babe doesn’t let him disagree, though, just kisses him deeply and makes a ‘nuh-uh’ noise. “You are, though. Say it back to me. Tell me that you’re perfect.”

It takes a lot of deep breathing, shakily through his nose as him and Babe continue to kiss sloppily, but eventually Joe leans back a little and whimpers, “I… I’m perfect.”

The sound that Babe makes in return is almost like a reward, but it draws another deep sob out of Joe. He hangs his head as well as he can with Gene’s arm around his throat, but Babe just tilts his head and kisses him at this new angle instead.

“You are, sweetheart, thank you,” he’s murmuring, moving his hands to Joe’s thighs. “Now tell me you’re pretty.”

Joe does, repeats after Babe, and gets another kiss for it. Like this, coaxed with kisses and fingers slowly edging up the line of Joe’s thighs, up to his stomach and slowly down to his dick, he’s coaxed to repeat phrase after phrase.

“I’m beautiful, I’m kind, I’m brave, I’m sweet,” he whispers, crying more and more but also feeling like his chest is getting lighter with every bit of nonsense coming out of him. Babe is almost purring, again, so pleased and happy with the progress Joe is making. 

At some point Eugene started rutting them together again, making Joe moan brokenly because fuck, he wants to come so fucking bad but all he gets is teasing and too-light touches. Gene’s arm slowly eases up, letting Liebgott fall into Babe’s waiting arms instead, free to cling to him and turn their kisses into full-on making out while Gene uses him.

“You’re such a good boy,” Babe says against his lips, and Joe moans again. “So good, taking all of this. Tell me, Joe, tell me how good you are.”

“I’m a good boy,” Joe says immediately, hoarse and tired. Eugene groans behind him, and Babe pulls his hands away from Lieb’s body. It makes him whine, desperate for the contact, and he starts rambling in the hopes that it’ll earn him Babe’s fingers back. “I’m a good boy, I’m— I’m— I’m a slut, I’m your good little slut boy, please, please—“

Babe hushes him gently, rubs the sides of their heads together and wraps a wet, slick hand around Joe’s cock. He might be whiting out against the feeling of it, keening and probably giving Babe bruises with how hard he clings to his shoulders. 

“You are pretty slutty,” Babe says gently, giving Joe a long, slow, loose stroke. It’s the only thing he cares about in the world, and he can’t come, can’t, isn’t allowed to, he was told— “But look at how good you’re being, though, sweetie.”

Eugene makes another groan, his grip at Joe’s hips also bruising, and Joe only now registers that their weird pace has been picked up significantly. He presses himself back when Gene pulls on him, earning him a string of filthy-sounding French when he does.

“You want Gene to come inside you, sweetheart?” Babe asks, pulling Joe up into another kiss that’s less a kiss and more Joe panting into his mouth. Babe takes the opportunity to lick a stripe along the underside of Joe’s top lip, because the man is horrible and shameless and wonderful. “You want him to fill you up, and then you can come down my throat? You want it? Tell me how much you want it, you good boy.”

“I want—“ Joe whimpers, swallows, and tries again. “I want to come, please, please, I want him to come in me, I’ll be so good, I promise I’ll be good, Babe, Gene, please, come in me, please, let me—“

He gets pulled down onto Eugene’s lap one last time, at the same time as Babe groans into one final kiss, Eugene shivering and throbbing inside him. Joe lets out a sound that’s not a wail, because Joe doesn’t wail, feeling like he’ll burst at the seams at any moment. 

Then he’s pulled back, again pressed against Eugene’s chest, and Babe’s lips are on his neck to immediately start kissing a trail down his chest and his stomach. 

“Perfect,” Eugene pants against his ear, hoarse and low and sounding very satisfied. “You’re so fucking perfect, Joseph, such a perfect, pretty boy, I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Look at Babe, look how happy you’ve made him, how proud he is, look.”

Joe tries, but again things are made difficult because of the tears in his eyelashes. Babe looks flushed and determined, reaches his dick and wastes no time pressing his soft lips down over him. He’s slick with the lube Babe has covered him in and it takes no time and even less resistance for Babe to swallow him down entirely.

“You deserve it, sweet boy,” Eugene says as Joe moans loud enough for half the city to hear when Babe’s throat presses in around the head of his cock. “You wanna come for us now? You may, sweetheart, if you tell me again, tell me what you are, tell Babe what you are—“

“I’m good,” Joe sobs, feeling his orgasm approaching like a freight train, thank fuck. “I’m good, I’m pretty, I’m perfect.”

Babe bobs his head and moans, as well as he can with his lips stretched out and pressed against Lieb’s stomach. The vibrations are what do him in and he comes, finally, and it’s almost painful with how intense it is. It’s making him arch his back and strain against Eugene’s arms, against where Gene’s cock is still buried in his ass, holding him in place.

White flashes go through him and he’s panting, face pressed into Eugene’s neck, feeling his body tremble with a mixture of pleasure and pain and just furious crying. 

It’s the best fucking thing he’s ever felt in his life, and Joe lets it pull him under.


	3. Chapter 3

Joe isn’t sure how long it takes him to piece together a coherent thought again, but he recognises how he’s kind of gently tilted off Eugene and into Babe’s arms, flipped down onto his side on the mattress. The duvets are pulled back, and then he’s nestled under a heavy nest of _soft,_ Babe getting in under the covers with him.

There really should be some protesting, he should be protesting, because Joe Liebgott doesn’t _do_ cuddles — it’s something he loves about David, actually. The man accepts Joe’s grumbly insults that “ _my ass hurts, move the fuck over, asshole,_ ” moves over, and spoons him for a while until he inevitably falls asleep.

See, Web is a one and done kind of guy, content just making sure his boyfriend is back to his pissy self before going the fuck to sleep. He usually mumbles some sappy shit in his ear until Joe threatens to rip his tongue out and then conk out while holding on so tight Joe probably couldn’t get away unless he really, really tried. 

Not that he tries. The second David goes still behind him, all soft from sleep, Joe kinda just… carefully shifts around until he feels comfortable, pulls his favourite soft pillow to his chest, and then he lies there, held close in Web’s arms. It makes him feel safe. No audience, no consequences, just David holding on and not letting go, and Joe is free to close his eyes and burrow his face in the edge of the duvet. 

So sure, he does that, but that’s about… Okay, so he doesn’t know what the fuck that is about except that it feels fucking good and like he’s a person after bawling his eyes out like a baby, because for some reason that’s Joe’s Modus Operandi during sex. It’s not cuddling. Joe doesn’t cuddle.

This is what he tells himself as he gets softly shoved under the duvet, what he dedicates his first thoughts to, but then Babe’s warm lips press against the side of his neck, and Joe—

He cracks. Again. He thinks?

Without even really thinking about it, he rolls himself over until he’s facing the man and then burrows his head into Babe’s chest. Babe makes a noise like he’s happy, and it’s probably connected to some kinds of words, but Joe can’t make them out right now. 

Arms around his back pull him in tighter, he’s allowed to press a leg in between Babe’s thighs, and there’s some squirming happening that really lets Joe get himself in there. He ends up pressed stomach-to-stomach with Babe, curled in against Babe’s collarbone and feeling Babe’s warm, steady hands on his shoulder and his waist, holding him close.

There’s a lot of Babe going on in Joe’s life right now, okay? It feels kind of like how those moments after David goes to sleep feel like, but also completely different, like how white bread and bullshit hipster nuts-and-seeds bread are both breads, but not nearly equal in a game of Grilled Sandwich Making.

Joe isn’t sure why he’s thinking about bread. He fucking hates bread, and he can’t even say it, because Eugene is probably exactly the kind of asshole who has a sourdough starter he dotes on like it was a child—

While he’s busy working himself into a hissy fit over baked goods, Joe kind of misses the weight on the bed shift, until someone leans down over him to press a kiss first to Babe’s face, and then to Joe’s. Or, well. He gets a kiss on his temple, because only the top of his head is sticking out of the duvet right now.

“Hey there, sweet boy,” Gene mumbles against Joe’s scalp when the touch makes him shiver. “You here with us again, lovely thing?”

“The loveliest,” Babe intercepts immediately, sounding hoarse and happy and sated in a way Joe has _never_ experienced before. But then, he’s never fucked the man before.

“The loveliest,” Eugene laughs in agreement, leaning his weight a little to run a hand through Babe’s hair, Joe thinks. It’s hard to tell with his eyes closed.

He doesn’t know why his eyes are still closed, but they are, and once he realises that he feels like he should open them. But there’s something pressing in his throat, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to see when he looks up, isn’t sure he can deal with… Whatever, right now. 

Joe doesn’t realise he’s shivering until two pairs of soothing noises come at him. Babe’s is in the shape of a low, sad little humming, pressing Joe tighter to his chest, while Eugene’s takes the form of quiet whispers against Joe’s sweat-damp curls.

“It’s okay, pretty boy, it’s okay,” he says, bending down a little further from where he’s sitting atop the duvet next to him, lets his weight gently lean on top of Joe’s hip and side. “You were so brave, so good, I know it’s a lot to deal with, just how perfect you were. But it’s okay, I’m here, and so is Babe. I’m not leaving, and neither is he. We have all the time in the world.”

Fuck, he doesn’t know what’s going on, why he’s still this weepy, why he clings to Babe’s warm body and Gene’s kind words like they’re air in his lungs. Joe feels small and scared and unsure, not knowing how the fuck to come down from the ridiculous place he just got up to, how to deal with all of this.

So he clings, and he keeps his eyes screwed shut, and he tries to breathe through his trembling mouth because he is not going to cry again. But as the plans of most idiot men after sex are wont to do, that idea crumbles after all of three seconds.

Because Eugene leans down to press his face against Joe’s shoulder while Babe scoots down to kiss Joe’s forehead. Then, the furrow between his eyes, the crow’s feet he’s making as he tries to keep this down, and finally the high point of one of his cheekbones.

“Are you sad, pretty boy?” Babe mumbles gently. “Can you look at me? Sweetheart, you don’t deserve to be sad, you’re the loveliest thing in the world.”

Seriously, fuck Heffron and the way he says things like that. Babe sounds like he’s talking to a child, but not in a demeaning way, like he’s a fond but gently worried father whose kid just scraped their knees. It’s like he sees the catastrophe this is for Joe, but knows it’s not really that bad.

What can he do but believe him? Joe presses a hand to his mouth and sobs so hard it makes him do a pig noise, and then that pushes his new tears over the edge.

“Oh, darling,” Babe sighs, cradling Joe’s head to his neck, leaning the side of his jaw to Joe’s forehead. “It was a lot, wasn’t it, all of that?”

Joe nods, and the part of him screaming that _now he’s acting like a child, too_ , can fuck right off. There’s no room for that voice in his head, stuffed full of cotton and with about a million things swimming through it right now. 

“I know, I know,” Babe says, and Joe believes him, because the man sleeps with Eugene on the regular. There is no way this is unfamiliar territory to him, even if Joe’s special kind of fucked-up is unique to this situation. “But you got through it anyway, and you didn’t quit, even though it was scary. Because you’re brave, and you’re strong, and you’re perfect. Remember?”

He nods again, because he does, remembers saying that just… However long ago it was. He remembers saying all the things Joe and Gene pulled out of him, remembers believing it. Now, the way he’s trembling all over is because of reasons he understands.

Because Joe is terrified. He’s terrified, of this thing inside him, of what he turns into when he gets like this, of all the implications it brings with him. It’s fucking terrifying, how vulnerable he gets, how vulnerable he longs to get, how much he aches for it when it’s been too long.

Babe and Eugene aren’t the first to have seen it, and neither is David, but that doesn’t exactly make it less scary. Because it’s undeniable now, isn’t it? Too many people know, too many have seen, have heard, have felt, for him to be able to act like it’s nothing.

But they’re still here. Babe is still holding him and letting Joe hide against his skin, his tears making a little puddle in the crook of his neck, and Eugene is still pressing close to his side. 

“I don’t know—“ he hiccups out, earning him a series of kisses to his shoulder through the duvet from Eugene, “I don’t know why I— what it—“

“Don’t you know,” Babe interrupts him gently, kindly taking over the reins where Joe has no idea where he’s going, “or don’t you want to say it?”

_Seriously_ , fuck him. Joe spends the next minute crying too much to talk, just lets himself be rocked between the two of them gently. His head is starting to ache, and he’s forced to breathe through his mouth because his nose is too stuffed up, but he welcomes the empty feeling.

He feels wrung out, in a good way, because it makes him too tired to care. When Babe rolls over on his back, gently pulling Joe with him, he lets it happen.

Getting tucked in on top of Babe’s chest, the blankets never going low enough to have his whole face uncovered, Joe finds it in him to open his eyes again. He just stares into the wall opposite him, tears still rolling down against Babe’s skin, and his head is so empty he barely remembers that he’s a person anymore.

“You perfect thing,” Babe tells him, cheek rubbing over the crown of Joe’s head, and it’s about all he can handle right now. “You sweet, kind, patient, brave thing, Joe. You’re amazing. I love you so much, sweetheart, and so does everyone else. You’re precious, you know that? Do you know how important you are?”

Joe wants to nod, wants to be able to believe him, but it’s just far enough that he can’t bring himself to. Babe hums with his lips against Joe’s forehead like it’s okay, anyway, and he wants to thank him for it.

Eugene is still there, moving until he’s sitting up with his back against the headboard, hands never leaving Joe like he wants him to be able to tell Gene's still there. His fingers move to Lieb's hair, gently untangling whatever mess it must have turned into with slow, kind movements.

It’s grounding, that too, being able to feel Eugene’s hands literally unwinding at least one of Joe’s messes. He relaxes into it, breathes in the rhythm Babe guides him into by placing one of Joe’s hands on his own heart, holding it still against freckled skin.

After a little while, he starts to finally relax into it, the last of his tension bleeding out along with the anxiety, Joe slowly feeling himself turn into more of a puddle than a man. It’s nice. It’s really, really fucking nice. 

A part of him feels like he could fall asleep like this, and Eugene must pick up on it, because he starts to gently take control back into his own hands. He moves again, pressing yet another kiss to first Babe’s face and then Joe’s, with a noise like he’s the calmest, happiest person in the world. 

How can Joe tell? Fuck you, you try hearing what Eugene Roe sounds like right now and then disagree. 

“Perfect,” is all Gene tells him, and Joe doesn’t have a single bone in him ready to disagree. “Sweetheart, I’m going to draw you a bath now. Does that sound nice? Yeah? Getting all nice and clean, wash all this off and then go to sleep? You want that, pretty boy?”

Joe nods in response, because _yes, yes he does, he really does_. Eugene presses what he might mean to be a final kiss to his cheek, but Joe turns his head before he can leave. 

“Promise to come back?” He says, because it’s okay if Gene leaves for a minute, but absolutely not okay for him to stay away. 

Their eyes meet, Joe’s full of tears, but Eugene’s are calm and warm and kind. He smiles like Joe just gave him the sun, and leans down to mumble out his response against Joe’s lips.

“Of course, you wonderful boy, I promise,” he says, and Joe opens his mouth without even thinking about it. 

Now, when he’s no longer pushing and pulling the man, he finds out that Gene also can be quite a gentle kisser. His tongue meets Joe’s softly, Eugene moving back just enough to be able to press their lips together over and over. It’s like he’s tasting him, like he’s stealing sweet, deep kisses from Joe, and it makes him giggle.

Gene smiles back at him, presses one actually final kiss to the corner of Joe’s mouth, and then he starts to move away. “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” he says against Joe’s cheek.

Then he goes, moving off the bed in one smooth motion, and Joe lolls his head back to Babe. He’s smiling, too, and Joe grins back at him. 

“Well hello there, pretty boy,” Babe says. Joe giggles again, not giving a single shit about anything in the world anymore, and tilts his head up to get more kisses. Babe responds by rolling them over again until he can languidly lean his weight on top of Joe’s body. 

It feels nice, unhurried, Babe seeming content to lean one elbow next to Joe’s head and pushing his other hand against Joe’s shoulder as their mouths move together.

There’s something reassuring about knowing that this is going exactly nowhere, is just a space for Joe to explore the fact that he really, really, really likes kissing Babe.

He likes it so much. He can’t believe he wasn’t always doing this, hasn’t already spent years just feeling Babe’s tongue slide against his, learned the cues for when Babe’s going to break off to suck on his bottom lip.

Joe is aware he’s making soft little noises, because Babe echoes them back at him, just happy, sated little moans reassuring each other that yeah, this is great, isn’t it?

One of his hands buries itself in the hair on the back of Babe's head, the other one resting lazily next to where Joe's own hair is getting rubbed against the pillows. 

The hand on Joe's shoulder moves to cup his jaw as Babe laughs into his mouth. Joe shuts him up with another enthusiastic kiss, an open invitation for Babe to take as much control over this situation as he wants.

After who knows how long of this, Babe’s Eugene senses must be tingling, because he lifts his head up and turns away. Joe follows his gaze to where Gene is leaning against the doorway, somehow in pyjamas, his arms folded over his chest. He’s still smiling, though, so Joe closes his eyes and rubs his nose against Babe’s jaw unhurriedly.

“What’re you two up to?” Gene says, more fond than teasing, but it doesn’t stop Babe from huffing back at him anyway. 

There’s a quip, recycled from earlier in the night, picking at the back of Joe’s head. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t care for it, has no interest in trying to rile Eugene up now. Not when he feels so soft, and Babe is so warm against him, and Gene looks so proud and happy in the doorway. 

“Come on, now,” Gene sighs, moving over to the bed to rudely interrupt Joe’s good time. “The bath is ready for you, time to get clean, yeah?”

And oh, right, Joe would really fucking love a bath right now. He lets himself get pulled out of bed, only has time to consider moaning over how tired his whole body feels before Eugene takes a firm grip on his waist and gently pulls him off his feet. 

“Stop that,” Gene chides softly when Babe makes an unhappy noise, “you can wait here if you want me to carry you, but right now I’m gonna make sure Joe gets in the tub like he deserves.”

Joe doesn’t care about Babe feeling unfairly treated as he clings to Eugene with all his limbs, eyes still closed as he sticks his tongue out in what he hopes is the general direction of the bed. Babe makes an offended noise, but it’s coming from close enough Joe can tell that he got up and followed them on his own.

“Don’t fight,” Gene scolds them with a voice that speaks of no actual annoyance. Joe tries to hide his smug grin against Eugene’s shoulder. It’s unclear if it works.

Getting put in the bath, so warm that the water tingles against his skin, might be the best thing Joe has ever felt, and that’s a record that just keeps being broken today, huh? Eugene supports his weight by holding on to Joe’s hands as he slowly sits down, and he’d be happy being left here to enjoy the water.

But of course, Babe has to make an impressionable entrance. Eugene gets out a warning, but it doesn’t stop Babe from half flopping into the water, getting suds and splashes over half the bathroom as he equally as violently squirms himself up between Joe’s legs.

He bumps their noses together with a grin, not a care in the world as the water rocks around them. It feels like being caught in the world’s smallest wave making machine. 

And then Eugene squats down next to them, glaring daggers at Babe. His boyfriend blinks back at him with big, innocent eyes.

“You’re lucky we have company,” Gene says flatly, “because otherwise that little stunt would have gotten you… Get off him, Babe. I’m not going to indulge you if you behave like this.”

Joe would actually like it if Babe stayed, but his protests are kind of erased when Babe first leans up to give Joe a kiss so deep it’s downright filthy. Then he pulls back, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his tongue as he scoots over to the other side of the tub.

A set of fingers on Joe’s chin tilts his face up, and then Gene’s eyes are on him. They’re soft again, and one of the corners of his mouth tilts up at whatever look Joe is currently wearing.

“Hi there,” Gene says, running a thumb over Joe’s bottom lip.

“Hi,” Joe echoes, struggling with the impulse to stick his tongue out against it. Some of it must read in his face, because Eugene smiles for real now.

“Sit up now, sweet boy, let’s get you clean again.”

Joe is leant forward until he’s sitting up, Gene kneeling next to him as he gently washes Joe off with a soapy loofah — _an actual loofah, go fuck yourself, David, people our age do use them_ — leaving suds everywhere and making his skin turn red, soft and sensitive. 

It’s… pretty fucking nice, especially when Joe gets to wrap his arms around his knees as Gene shampoos his hair. He’s mirroring Babe, who has his chin propped up on one of his own knees, seemingly content to just watch Joe get spoiled and occasionally reach out to run a finger over a mark or twist their hands together.

He doesn’t understand until after Gene makes him lean back to rinse the shampoo off and he’s left sitting with his curl-friendly conditioner, and Eugene takes the moment to move on to Babe for a few seconds.

The second Joe had recognised the kit Gene pulled out to wash his hair, his throat had choked up again, because it was his. 

Joe spends… a lot of money on his hair, and he knows that that is ridiculous and stereotypical and horrible of him, but you can go fuck yourself, he likes his hair to look nice, okay? Sorry. He just… It matters to him, and he doesn’t have some deep or sorry backstory to justify it, Joe just likes his hair to be perfectly styled and takes pride in making his curls fall just right.

And if that means developing a haircare routine that makes Web roll his eyes every time, then so fucking be it. It hadn’t taken more than three weeks of the asshole living with him anyway before David, the whore, had started eying his kit with curious eyes.

He has a shampoo, two different kinds of conditioners, styling creams, curling creams, brushes and two diffusers, and that’s not even starting on the actual tools—

Okay, point isn’t that Joe has fucking, half a salon in his shower, the point is that taking care of his mop of hair is important to him. And Eugene must know this, must’ve talked to David about borrowing his kit for this, because Joe had no fucking clue.

A side effect of also sharing products with his boyfriend like a proper sap is that not only does the conditioner currently absorbing into his curls smell like home, it smells like David.

Joe is sitting in a tub, fucked out and post-hour-long cry, and he’s being taken cared of while having nice things said to him, smelling like his boyfriend, and now he’s also treated to the sight of Lovers Extraordinaire Babe and Eugene having a very intimate moment in front of him.

They’re clearly not opposed to him being there, quite the opposite, they’re inviting him into it. Babe still has one hand touching Joe’s leg and Eugene looks over at him every now and then with one of those achingly sincere smiles and it’s…

They look cute together. Safe, happy, secure. Gene washes Babe’s hair and they have soft banter about suds getting in his eyes, because Babe keeps trying to look up at Eugene with all this adoration in his gaze. Meanwhile, Eugene keeps pressing little kisses to Babe’s shoulder while calling him fond names in French. It’s like Joe can see Gene’s heart beat for this boy as he gives him a little shampoo mohawk.

It’s not a bad show, but Joe suddenly wishes he could manage to tear his eyes away. This is so clearly something that is so fundamental to their relationship, and he realises that he might be the first person to ever get to see it. 

For all that Gene and Babe, especially, don’t exactly keep anything about how lovey-dovey they are secret to anyone, Eugene is fiercely protective over Babe after they do… Things like this. It’s become an inside joke in the gang that Gene locks Babe into a dungeon sometimes, because they most often don’t hear from them for at least a whole day after one of them drags the other off with a clear goal in mind.

Babe has just never commented on whatever goes into their sex-slash-kink-slash-aftercare routines, but Eugene straight up shuts the conversations down if they happen. 

_Until now_ , a voice pocks at the back of his head, _because they talked to you about it. They talked to David about it. They invited you in, showed you first hand, and now they’re letting you see it from the front row._

It’s not a mean voice, for once, but the whole subject matter still tugs at something in his stomach. Eugene has washed out the last of the shampoo from Babe’s hair and is moving back to Joe. 

“Good boy, waiting like that,” he says, kissing Joe’s cheek before gently leaning him back to wash the leftover product out of his hair. “How you feeling now, Joseph, pretty boy?”

Lieb doesn’t know how to answer that, really, how to sum up this mess inside his own head. He closes his eyes, feels Gene massage his scalp with gentle hands, carding through Joe’s now-soft hair with ease and care. Unlike his heart, his throat and his head, it’s now tangle-free and smooth.

There’s a thing in the pit of his stomach that sometimes likes to turn his guts into a game of Twister, and it’s rearing its head quite viciously right now. He doesn’t know what to make of it, wants to go back, back to when he felt soft and giggly and happy and didn’t care about anything or himself.

“I’m sorry,” is what he ends up saying. Eugene immediately frowns a little at Joe’s small voice, and the thing in his stomach rolls over on itself.

“Joseph, sweetheart, what are you apologising for?” Gene mumbles, carefully but quickly tilting Joe back up and taking his face between his soft hands. “You have nothing to be sorry about, you—“

“I’m— sorry, for coming in here like this, for…” If Joe cries again right now, he just might have to toss himself out of a window. “For coming in between the two of you and being all… All…”

“Oh, darling,” Eugene says, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “You haven’t been ‘all’ anything, Joe. You’ve been nothing but perfect, but there’s been a lot today. Don’t worry, I still got you, we still got you. We’re not letting you go just yet. We’re gonna get you out of this tub, and back into bed, and then you can just sleep for a little. Does that sound okay?”

Joe nods. He closed his eyes halfway through that little rant, because he couldn’t handle the tears clumping in his own eyelashes. Gene strokes his thumbs over Joe’s cheekbones slowly.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen now, no surprises. I’m going to get Babe out of the bath, dry him up and then let him go get the bed ready. Then I’m taking care of you. Yeah?”

Nodding again, Joe feels a kiss pressed to his forehead before Eugene pulls back.The water around him moves, but Babe moves over to him before getting out, leaning in to now press his forehead to Joe’s where he’s trying to hide his face in his knees. 

“Love you, Joe,” is what Babe says, and it’s so dumbly sweet in that way of his that it makes Joe’s heart ache again. “‘Member?”

“Yeah,” Joe says against his wet skin. “Yeah, I remember, Babe.”

Another kiss on his forehead, and then Babe is leaving the tub. The water isn’t going cold, exactly, but just at the edge of lukewarm that Lieb would very much like to leave it soon, please. But Eugene told him to wait, said that he was going to take care of him, so he does. He waits.

Babe gets towelled off in a way that will undoubtedly make his hair a frizzy, poofy mess, but there’s so much giggling coming from said Babe that Joe thinks he probably doesn’t mind it so much. 

He gets a bottle pressed into his hands while Eugene bends down to help him get his pyjamas on — where did all of it come from? did they get it ready before or do they just stock this shit in the bathroom? They probably do, the fucking sex nerds, he can’t — and drinks a bit of it before his shirt gets wrangled on him. 

Once that’s done Eugene pulls his boyfriend into a hug, mumbles something into his ear, kisses Babe on first the cheek, then the mouth, and sends him off. Babe goes happily, all but skipping out of the bathroom with his drink and his ducky pyjamas.

Fuck, he’s such a stupid fucking dork, but shit if Joe doesn’t adore this idiot to the end of his being.

He realises that Gene is looking back at him now, but any attempt Lieb makes to hide the stupid smile on his face is in vain. Eugene turns back to the pile of clothes on top of their hamper wearing a matching, fond smile.

“Just one second, Joe,” he says, changing his shirt so quickly Joe doesn’t even have time to question why he does it. “I love my boy, but he’s always such a little mess whenever water gets involved. Not gonna make you lean up against wet fabric, sweetheart. Now, come on, up you go—“

And now it’s finally Joe’s time to get out of the tub. Gene keeps up a running commentary as he takes a hold under Lieb’s arms, supporting his weight as he steps onto the — indeed wet — bathroom carpet.

Gene laughs at the face he makes when his feet touch the fabric. “I know, Joe, I’ve tried to make him less… Messy,” he says, immediately draping a huge, warm towel around Joe’s body, “but you can probably assume how well that’s gone. Besides, he wouldn’t be Babe if he didn’t act like that, you know?”

Lieb isn’t sure whether Gene wants him to answer him, here, or if he’s just babbling to fill the silence. Doesn’t matter anyway, because Joe is too busy curling into the warmth and sheer size of this fucking towel right now. 

Babe and Eugene, like the extravagant homosexuals they are, of course have a heated towel rack, but Joe still wasn’t expecting the towel to be quite this warm. Nor this big — it’s like when he was a kid and towels were essentially rough blankets, because he can wrap the thing around him and be entirely covered.

He’s been naked for a long time. It feels pretty fucking good to be covered up again. Eugene doesn’t seem to mind, just smiles at Joe and drapes another towel over Joe’s hair to squeeze the worst of the wet out of it. 

“That feel good, pretty boy?” He mumbles against Joe’s ear. Lieb feels too tired to respond, just nods instead. Gene pulls back just far enough to kiss the tip of his nose, and then laughs a little when it makes Joe’s face scrunch up. “Sorry. I won’t do that again. Come on, darling, let’s get you into some clothes, yeah?”

Joe is guided to sit down on the toilet seat, Eugene kneeling between his knees with another fucking towel. First his left, then his right foot gets towelled off, and there are a pair of very soft, thick socks being pulled onto them.

Not to make another addition to the list of shit Joseph Liebgott doesn’t do, because it’s probably already obvious that fuzzy socks are on it, but these are nice. He flexes his toes in them and they feel warm and soft and just… nice.

His legs are next, Gene softly getting a pair of thick, heavy, soft pyjamas on him, only making Joe unwrap his blanket burrito enough to slide them up and over his ass. But then—

“You need to take this off, now, Joe,” Gene says, and Joe absolutely doesn’t want to fucking do that.

“Fuck off,” he says, frowning at Eugene like he’s a second away from pouting. He likes this towel. It’s his new favourite thing, and it stops him from feeling as exposed as he has every second of this, it feels safe and warm and nice.

“Joe, I have a shirt, a hoodie and a robe for you,” Gene says patiently, rubbing his thumbs over Lieb’s knees as he slowly tries to coax him into letting Gene take his towel back. “And if you still want, you can have a new towel, but this one is all wet and cold now. I don’t want you to be wet and cold. I want you to be dry and warm. Please?”

Joe glares for a few more seconds, but Eugene really did get him with the “you’ll be freezing and damp in a few minutes” argument, there. He doesn’t like being wrong, and he needs Gene to know it.

“Be fucking quick about it,” Joe grumbles out and eases up his hold on the towel, “or I’mma shove your fucking wet shirt down your—“

Not bothering to finish that threat, because Eugene clearly didn’t bother to feel threatened about it in the first place, Joe closes his eyes as the towel is slid down from his shoulders.

The air feels freezing, suddenly, and his teeth are chattering before Gene has even had the time to make Joe put his arms up. A short-sleeved t-shirt is pulled over his head, which is not nearly enough to make him feel better, quickly followed by a hoodie as thick as the pants he’s wearing, which is.

Eugene pulls him into another hug, and Joe is suddenly glad that the man did switch his wet shirt out, because he burrows into it now. Warm arms are around him, there’re soft, hushing words in his ear, and Joe is having some body warmth rubbed back into him.

He shivers for approximately an eternity before Eugene somehow manages to wrestle a very fluffy bathrobe around him, and oh, now they’re finally getting somewhere.

It’s odd, because it goes away as fast as it came, Joe suddenly feeling warm and sated and content with all the matters in the whole universe. The robe even has a hood, but Eugene stills Joe’s hands when he goes to pull it over his head.

“If you want the hood, it’s yours,” he says gently, looking Lieb in the eye now, “but if you want, I can do your hair before we go back to bed? So that it’ll look all nice when you wake up again, yeah?”

Fuck, Eugene is way too nice right now, Joe doesn’t know how to deal. Because yeah, he’d very much like that, has been cringing internally about the state his fucking mop is gonna be in when it dries. See, he has absolutely zero energy to do this on his own.

He gets a kiss on the lips first, and then they’re rearranged. The old towel is discarded, a dry one placed between Joe’s ass and the floor as Gene makes him sit down with his back to the toilet seat. He takes that spot himself, knees around Joe’s shoulders, giving him a good vantage point to really be able to do Joe’s hair properly.

A bottle, like the one Babe got, is pressed into his hand gently, and he finds out it’s some kind of gatorade. Joe hates gatorade, but he is also not going to sit through a fucking electrolyte lecture right now, so he drinks it anyway. Maybe he downs it, actually, but that has got nothing to do with him being thirsty as fuck and this hitting just the right spot, fuck you.

Gene just laughs a little, handing him a bottle of water next.

The shower kit, the one David must’ve packed for this, is pulled out again and Joe has to close his eyes. Gene doesn’t try to coax him out of his silence, just talks about what he’s doing as he combs through Joe’s hair and lets it curl up on its own before clicking the bottle of curl cream Lieb’s most fond of.

And Joe knows that that’s the one, because again he recognises the smell. It smells like Sunday afternoons, which is when he usually does this, booting David out of the bathroom for a few hours to make sure his ass is as well-prepped for the coming hellweek as it possibly can be.

Not that it helps a lot, because David is a bitch who invades Joe’s space, and Joe is a bitch who always lets him. Shower sex is where he draws the line, because Lieb doesn’t have a death wish and knows fully well that the combination of the two of them, sex, and wet slippery clinker is just as good as laying out in the street and asking a truck driver to run you over.

But that doesn’t mean that they haven’t done other shit, AKA: David is usually the cuddle-sick puppy he becomes after sex when Joe does his hair. Except, of course, he can’t go to sleep at 2pm in the bathroom, so he usually just clings to Joe instead.

Now, curled up between Eugene’s legs as Gene gently rolls curl after curl around his finger and occasionally gives Joe little scalp scratches with fingers that smell like Sunday afternoons and David pressing kisses into his neck, Joe falls face-first into the realisation that he misses his boyfriend.

Holy fucking shit, he misses David so much it almost hurts, a million images flicking through his head at once; of David pressing a kiss to his face as they lie in a puddle of sheets and afterglow, of pulling Web into the bath Joe’s already in, getting water and bubbles everywhere, of David towelling him off and pulling him back into bed while gently calling him out for being a jackass.

He’s really glad that Eugene is here, and that Babe is waiting for them in bed, Joe appreciates their company so much, but… But God, they’re two pieces of a whole, and as well as he fits in between them, Joe’s missing his other piece right now. 

It’s not that he minds doing this with them, or letting them see him like this, but he wants to do this with David. He wants Web to see him like this, to hide his giggles in his neck, too, to cuddle up next to him instead.

David has been asking for it, silently, for a very long time. And now Joe wants to give it to him, give it all up, and David isn’t here.

Time flies when you’re having an emotional breakdown-slash-breakthrough, apparently, because suddenly Gene’s hands are wrapping around Joe’s shoulders. Done with his handiwork, Gene now presses a kiss into Joe’s cheek where he’s bent down over him.

“You ready to go back to bed, sweetheart?” Eugene asks, steady eyes getting a look at where Joe is busy wetly staring into the wall opposite him. “What are you thinking about, pretty boy?”

“I’m…” Joe says, not surprised that it comes out wobbly and quiet, “Gene, I want David.”

“Oh. Oh, I know, _Liebling_ , I know,” Gene says, and the nickname fucking shell-shocks Joe to his core.

Because that’s his name. That’s his name, David’s name, the one he uses for Joe when he loves him especially much. It’s not just a cute foreign nickname, like the waterfall of bullshit Eugene drowns Babe in on a fucking Tuesday afternoon, it’s special.

David uses it when he’s coming home late from work, crawling in between the sheets where Joe hasn’t been able to sleep without him. He uses it when Joe buys him croissants from that gross hipster café he loves but Joe hates, but that he goes to get the fucking croissants from anyway because it makes David smile. 

David calls Joe ‘ _Liebling_ ’ when he’s about to come, when Joe pulls his glasses off because David’s working himself to a migraine, on Friday afternoons when they’re both home from work and are bickering about what to do with the weekend.

Or when they’re fighting, not for fun and because they can’t agree on so much as how to walk across a street, but with shouting and tears and at least one of them throwing something. 

It’s the name for when Joe is being cute, or kind, or insufferable, or downright horrible. It’s the name David uses to tell Joe that he loves him. It’s his name. It’s their name.

David never uses it in public, never in front of anyone else, or if he does, it’s whispered into Joe’s ear like it’s a secret for just the two of them. It’s just for them, for those moments. Joe has never asked him to not let anyone else hear it, doesn’t fully understand a reason not to, but there’s something tight and protective in his heart about it.

But now Eugene knows it. Just used it, because Joe misses David.

He wants to be angry, but he’s not. He turns his head to stare at Eugene with wide eyes, feeling about as sturdy as silk paper, and Gene reaches a hand up to cup his cheek.

“David gave me a few pointers,” is all he says, waiting a few seconds to let Joe comprehend that. “He cares about you so much, Joe. More than anything in the world. Sometimes I think he might care about you more than I care for Babe. It mattered a lot to him that we took good care of you.”

And— oh. There it is, the thing Joe knew all along but has been too fucking bullshit stupid to really accept. David has had a hand in arranging the whole thing, which he knew, and wanted it to go well, _which he knew_ , because David loves him. Which he…

Which, he…

“Oh,” Joe whispers. His mind feels empty, and his voice is breaking. “Is.. Please, Gene, could you… I want...”

“David is gonna be here soon,” Gene promises, like it’s a reassurance, like he knew what Joe was trying to say. And thank fuck, because Joe might cry just from that sentence alone. “You can stay for as long as you want, but yeah, he’s gonna come. Not until you’ve gotten some sleep, though, but I promise that when you wake up he’ll be there.”

“Doc—“ Joe says, looking down at his half-empty bottle of water, feeling thin and shy and vulnerable. “Do you think he’ll like what… Do you think he’ll be mad at me?”

“Never.” _Well okay then_. “He won’t be mad, Joseph, I promise. He loves you. So, so much. I think… If I were to guess what he’s gonna feel, I think he’ll be really proud of you. For all that you did today. For how honest you’re being about how you feel right now. And I think he’s missed you too, a lot. More than you can imagine.”

That makes Joe laugh down at his hands. “I think I can imagine.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. But I’m not either of you,” Gene says, pressing a kiss to the space just in front of Joe’s ear. “Think you wanna head back to bed now, pretty boy?”

Joe just nods. He feels ready to take a break from feeling for a while, and the idea that David will be there when he wakes up is… Yeah, it sounds pretty nice.

“I’d like that,” he says, and then it doesn’t take long for Eugene to gently untangle them, getting off the toilet seat to help Joe to his feet.

When they get to the bedroom, Gene with an arm around Joe’s waist, the bed is much more of a mess. 

It’s at this point that Joe realises he hasn’t even seen the beginnings of Babe and Eugene’s bedclothes insanity, because there are so many pillows and duvets thrown about, he can’t figure out where the fuck they all even came from. No wonder the rest of their apartment is so minimalistic, if it has to make up for this lunacy.

When he walks over the doorstep, an orange head pops up from the middle of what looks like three pillows as Babe seems to go from “asleep” to “trying to clamber over to Joe and Eugene like a drugged animal” in about point-two seconds.

The boy makes a loud, prolonged whining noise that might contain Joe’s name at one point, and Lieb loses control over his own body. 

See, he’s tired as shit, and this bed looks like it came out of a fairytale of soft cotton straight to him, and Babe sounds like he’s miserable being in it alone. So Joe forgets about Eugene and climbs into the bed without thinking, struggling a little to peel away all the layers Babe is hidden under.

When he gets there, he’s immediately rolled onto his back by a Babe so satisfied he swears the man could be purring. Nuzzling into Joe’s neck, an arm and a leg swung over him while squirming his other hand in under Joe’s neck, Babe makes more pitiful noises into his skin.

“ _Missed you_ ,” is in there, as is some aggressive reassurances that Joe is “ _best boy,_ ” whatever the fuck that means, and some whining about how Babe was lonely without him but is now very very happy with him. The whole tirade ends by Babe popping his head up again, taking his first actual look at Joe since he got in the room. “You smell good. Why have you been crying?”

“That’s not a nice question, kitten,” Gene finally steps in, sitting down next to them on the bed and pulling the duvets up closer around them. “Our good boy has had a long day, and it’s time for both of you to rest for a while. You can talk later.”

Babe grumbles, but seems to accept it. Not before leaning up to press a long, firm, kiss on Joe’s mouth, though, curling up on Joe’s chest afterwards. Eugene just smiles above them, rubbing Joe’s cheek with one hand as he leans down to kiss Babe’s head.

“Thank you,” Babe mumbles against his neck, like he’s half asleep already. His body is like a little furnace, heavy and warm where he’s resting most of it on Lieb.

“For what?” Joe asks, struggling between his feelings of awkwardness and his feelings of almost passing out because he’s a bit too comfortable right now.

“Being you,” Babe says, and then his breathing evens out. Joe blinks down at the man snuffling happily against him, drowning Joe in heat and comfort as he traps him from going anywhere.

And then he looks up at Eugene, watching them both with an expression so fond he almost wants to look away again. “Don’t you… Aren’t you gonna get in?” He asks, because it feels like the proper thing to do.

Eugene shakes his head, drawing a thumb under one of Joe’s eyes. “No, this is just for you two. My perfect boys.” Leaning down, he says the next bit against Lieb’s forehead. “Now let go, you pretty little thing. I’ll be here when you wake up, and so will that boy of yours.”

Joe’s eyes have closed automatically, but he leans up to get one last kiss from Gene before he falls asleep. It’s soft, the chastest thing any of them have done today, and after he pulls away Eugene fusses with the blankets until Joe is covered up properly.

It feels safe, and he’s tired. So Joe turns his face into Babe’s hair, sneaks his arms more comfortably around him, and slowly drifts off to sleep.

———

It’s 3:57PM when David stops outside Gene and Babe’s door.

Okay, so full disclosure: he’d shown up nine minutes earlier, but this is what the time is when he stops pacing and actually stands still in front of the door, wondering if he’s breaking some kind of ground rule by being early.

Pulling his phone out, he double-checks both the time (exactly one more minute has passed) and Gene’s last text to him (which still says to text him when David’s there, instead of ringing the doorbell). He really, really wants to make it to four PM, but a stronger part of David fully believes he’s going to choke if he waits any longer.

This day has been… Unnerving, is probably the best word he has for it. 

Initially, David had thought that having a day to himself would be a nice, relaxing thing. Give him some space to think, turn a bit of music on, get some writing done in his favourite spot on the sofa without any distractions.

A side effect of having the world’s grumpiest, while secretly super needy, boyfriend is that getting work done in any kind of common space is most likely an impossibility. Web loves the lighting in their living room, but he knows that settling down with his laptop is going to do nothing but cause an eventually fussy outburst from said boyfriend.

And yeah, so maybe he loves the feeling of Joe dropping down next to him with an insult, shoving David’s work off his lap to replace it with his own legs. Or, maybe it’s nice to feel Joe slowly shuffle up against his side, thinking he’s inconspicuous as he nuzzles into David’s neck. Or, maybe David’s brain just stays acutely aware of the way Joe watches him, off in a corner or walking from the kitchen to their bedroom, or—

Point is: David usually doesn’t get very much work done on the sofa, because he’s usually forced to turn “writing time” into “snuggling with Joseph time” instead. And yeah, maybe that’s nice, but it’s also nice to be able to make some fucking progress on this article he’s struggled with for a week now.

What he hadn’t anticipated, which in hindsight he really, really should have, was how he ended up being a bit… Distracted, thinking about what Joe was actually getting up to while David was working.

Not out of jealousy, don’t get him wrong. If a single part of him had felt jealous or anxious for infidelity-related reasons, he’d have been over at Gene’s place breaking down the door within five minutes. And only partially because Eugene had been very clear about the fact that David also had a right to safeword this scene to a screeching halt.

That was another thing that had surprised him as they negotiated their way into this thing, which also felt silly of him. Of course it’d end if David was uncomfortable. Of course Gene would never let it proceed if he was.

Of course Joe would also glare at him the moment David had sounded unsure about it, smacking him over the back of the head with a “ _if you want our friends to fuck me, you better fucking be okay with it, asshole, or we’re not fucking doing this_ ” that had really cleared most of the worry out of his head.

No, it wasn’t jealousy. David wasn’t haunted by flashes of imagery of Joe in the throes of ecstasy under another man’s hands like this was some sort of soap opera, no. He trusted his boyfriend, he trusted his friends, he trusted all of them. He wasn’t worried that Joe would be enjoying himself too much, or too little, it was more that…

It’s hard to put a finger on. He’d nervously cleaned the whole apartment out to try and distract himself while he tried to work it out, but that had only gotten him a spotless apartment that he knew would scream “ _don’t listen to what he says, he was absolutely nervous the whole time_ ” to Joe the second he stepped over the threshold.

So he’d moved on to double checking the little aftercare bag he kept stored under the bed, had ended up repacking it, and then found himself picking out a thing or two that might be good to bring with him when he went to pick Joe back up.

David’s not an idiot, he knows that if there was ever a person in the world to have perfected the art of aftercare, it would be Eugene Roe. _But still_ , a piece in the back of his mind seemed to say, _maybe he misses something. Maybe he forgets. Maybe you weren’t clear enough._

Because while fussing over Joe post-scene, or just post-sex in general, wasn’t a huge part of their routine, what there was was fundamental. Every little scrap Joe was willing to give David, he’d taken, mulled over and stretched and cared for until he’d managed to come up with a solution that worked.

He’d almost worried about it until one time when he hadn’t fallen asleep in his usual timeframe, and suddenly felt Joe start to shuffle around in his arms. It had been a moment of panic, until Dave realised his boyfriend was burrowing in, rather than trying to sneak away. 

His heart had ached as he forced himself to lie still, feeling Joseph softly tug his favourite pillow to his chest — the one he always insists they do not, under any circumstances, have sex directly on because it would ruin it. Joe had hugged it close, wrapped David’s arms even closer around himself, and then just burrowed his nose into the blankets and gone still. 

And sure, it might have taken David a while to learn about what was apparently this little routine of Joe’s, but from the second he did he’d started to work with it. He got them a fluffier blanket to pull over them afterwards, all the better for Joe to burrow his nose into; made sure he was always facing out, that David always stayed close and wrapped tight but didn’t hold Joe’s arms in place.

He’d run his fingers through Joseph’s hair, untangling it as well as he could. Just making sure it got as neat as possible, coiling the front locks around his fingers until they fell in somewhat neat curls over his forehead, because Joe worried too much over his hair for David to, in good conscience, leave it a mess.

There are always kisses, pressed into the back of Joe’s neck, David telling him he loves him before pointedly pressing his forehead between Joe’s shoulder blades, to the back of his head, making sure Joe knows his boyfriend isn’t watching.

Because if Joe wants to hide, a little, just be left alone to come back to himself in a curled-up ball while David stays close and holds him and sleeps, then that’s what David’s gonna fucking give him. 

In the weeks since he started to really make an effort, since he started to really understand what was going on, it seemed to have made a difference. Joe came back to himself faster, a little softer and less ashamed than he’d always been before, quicker to get back to the quips without that sharp edge of insecurity to it.

Is it a serial killer who memorises these things? David isn’t sure, but it’s not gonna stop him. What’s the alternative? Talking to his boyfriend about it?

While that is probably the healthiest alternative on the market, he’ll give you that, clearly there were some things about Joe that couldn’t be solved with conversation. That’s the entire point of this whole endeavour, for Gene and Babe to rub and prod and pull at all of Joe’s defences until he has nothing to hide behind, until he feels safe to come out from under all his covers.

David’s allowed to wax shitty poetry about Joe in his head, it’s his head.

But the point of all of that is this: David had gone through the little stash of soft blankets and chocolate and hair… supplies under the bed, and he’d realised that Joe’s favourite little pillow was still lying on their bed.

Now, it’s not that he was sure that pawing that off to Eugene along with the other shit he’d given him in some sort of semi-secret would have been a good idea — not only would it have blown the cover on David setting things up with Gene without him knowing, it would also most likely have made it more awkward than not.

But he sees the pillow, and it reminds him that at some point today Joe is gonna come out on the other side of his hopefully self-enlightening fog, and David isn’t immediately going to be there to make sure he has what he needs.

And yes, again, that’s kind of the point of all of this. There are things going on with Joe that David can’t fix, however much he wants to. He understands this, and he’s so happy he could cry that Joe is now very actively reaching out to people who actually can help, but… But still.

Still, there’s a part of him that wants to be everything Joe could ever need, that could give him everything he could ever need. _You are though_ , a kind voice in his head tells him, and it makes David curl up tighter around where he’s hugging Joe’s pillow to his own chest, _you started this whole thing. You helped him get where he is, which is into the capable hands of people who can and want to and will help him._

It helps a little, David supposes, but there’s still an ache in the bottom of his chest as he checks the clock almost heartsick-ly. There’s an hour left until the time they’d set up, which means they should be getting done now. Web hadn’t even noticed that so much time had suddenly passed, but there he was, hugging the pillow Joe couldn’t hug, like he was doing it in his stead.

Realising he couldn’t very well just sit there and wait the time out, David had taken three deep breaths and then gotten up to find a bag to stuff Joe’s pillow in.

And that’s how he’d ended up with half his little stash in a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Gene had texted him half an hour ago to send a message when he came over, and not ring the bell, and David isn’t sure what that means. 

He’d tried not to sprint over to their place, but still ended up early, and thus spent ten minutes pacing Babe and Eugene’s hallway like a nervous freak before giving up and sending Gene a text that he was there, two minutes before their agreed-upon time.

It takes all of fifteen seconds for the door to unlock, and David barely has time to relax himself into something hopefully looking a little more put-together before it swings open and Gene smiles up at him.

“Hi, David,” he says, like Web coming over with what looks like an overnight bag packed to pick his boyfriend up from a bdsm threesome is the most normal thing in the world, “come in.”

David thinks he gets out a greeting, he isn’t sure, but Gene thankfully doesn’t comment. Instead he gets the door closed behind David and goes into the kitchen while Web takes his jacket and shoes off. 

He must be cooking, because of course he is, because his name is Eugene Roe and his entire life seems to be divided into three interests; Work, Babe, and cooking. It smells nice, whatever it is, some kind of stew type of thing that can no doubt be left alone for a while should the… situation call for it.

See, he said so. Of course Eugene has kink-suitable recipe lists, could probably write a whole cookbook on it.

Huh. Maybe David should pitch that idea somet—, oh for fuck’s sake, what the fuck is he doing, where the fuck is Joe?

The second David steps into the kitchen doorway, Gene smiles up at him, putting his spoon down to give him his full attention.

“You been okay today?” Gene asks, and must immediately read just how little time (see: none) that Web has for smalltalk right now, because his eyes go soft around the edges. “David, everything went well. At least as far as I can see. They’re sleeping. You wanna go check up on Joe?”

It’s at this point Web realises he hasn’t really said jack shit since walking into Gene’s apartment, and that’s not a great look, is it?

“Yeah,” he forces himself to say. It makes Gene smile a little wider, walking up to where David’s kind of blocking the doorway. “Yeah, I’d… If you think— Do you think I should?”

“David,” Gene says, gently putting a hand on Web’s shoulder, the one he doesn’t have his bag slung over, “if you wanna see him, go see him. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, but we can talk about that later, yeah? Come on.”

And then Eugene moves to squeeze his way out the doorway, but David stops him with his free hand. “Wait, Gene—“

The man stops, looking up at him with a calm, gentle expression, and David doesn’t know what to do. _Neither does Gene, probably,_ that same kind voice tries to remind him. _He’s probably as unsure how to handle this specific situation as you are._ David isn’t sure it helps, this time, but he appreciates the voice anyway.

“I just… Do you think I should wait until he wakes up?” He asks, wincing at how unsure he sounds, like a lost puppy who just wants to go home. “Maybe it’s better to just let him sleep? Or is he gonna think I didn’t—“

“David,” Gene says again, and when he opens his eyes to look at him, Eugene’s eyebrows are raised like he’s trying to really convince Web of what he’s saying. “David, Joe misses you. If you wanna be there right now, I promise you it’ll only make him happy, yeah?”

Simply just nodding in response, David lets Gene guide him out of the doorway and towards his and Babe’s bedroom. “Yeah,” he says quietly, licking his lips when Gene hums back at him, “yeah, okay. Did… Did everything go okay? Were you— was he—“

“He was perfect, but I think you knew that he would be already,” Gene responds with a smile, “and that’s as much as I’ll say. You’re gonna have to get the rest out of him, but yeah, I think it went well.”

Then they’re in front of the bedroom door and Eugene is opening it and quietly walking inside, holding the door open for David to walk through, and he sees Joe.

It hadn’t really struck him to ask where Babe was up until now — maybe some unconscious part of his brain is smarter than the rest of him and had picked up on literally anything going on around him, but David’s actual mind was somehow still expecting Joe to be in bed alone.

But he’s not. Instead, his boyfriend is curled up against Babe’s side, head on Babe’s chest, being held secure by one of Heffron’s arms around his waist. The bed is a mess, like they’ve been squirming around to really get comfortable, dressed in soft pyjamas and with an even softer-looking bathrobe bundled up behind Joe like he’d shrugged it off at some point because he was too warm.

Babe looks like a rumpled mess — a fluffy, soft and adorable mess, but still — while Joe just looks… Content. He looks happy. The tip of his nose is red and his cheeks are still a bit splotchy, which means he’s been crying today, but right now he doesn’t seem to have a care in the world.

It’s just him and Babe, snuggled close and breathing into each others’ spaces, one of Joe’s hands curled into the fabric of Babe’s shirt. David doesn’t know what the fuck to do. 

“Oh,” he says, because he’s pretty sure Gene said something to him first, and the scene in front of him shifts immediately.

Joe’s head shoots up, as fast as it can, all uncoordinated and heavy from sleep, and he makes a noise that sounds like a very mumbled “ _‘avid?_ ” as he looks around the room with one barely open eye. 

“Yeah, hi, Joe,” David says, and next he knows he’s moving across the room, because Joe looks like he’s about to roll out of the bed in some kind of ungraceful, flailing heap. 

Babe makes a confused noise, but he doesn’t care to see if it’s just from being woken up or if Joe punched him in the face in his haste to get to David. Web just drops his bag, crawls on top of the sheets and lets Joe unceremoniously tackle him as well as he can.

It’s not really a tackle, though, more of a heavy draping of Joe over his chest. David has to actually help Joe get his arms around his neck, but once he does, the man clings to him like a baby clings to a lollipop.

“The fuck you been?” Joe grumbles out, trying to crawl into David’s lap even though David doesn’t exactly have his lap in place for Joe to climb into. “Fucking, missed you, you bitch, too fucking clingy and smooth and making noise all the time—“

David isn’t sure if Joe’s talking about himself, Gene, Babe, or some combination of the three, but he tries to oblige as much as he can anyway. That includes wrestling them around until he’s sitting up against the headboard and Joe can press his face into his neck.

Behind Joe, Gene is bundling up a doe-eyed Babe into his own arms, pressing little kisses to his cheek before unceremoniously picking him up like it’s nothing. Huh. Guess Gene’s time spent with Toye in the gym must’ve paid— _who cares_.

Not Babe, apparently, because he just whispers something into Eugene’s ear and then stares at Joe and David like he’s going to start crying at any moment while Gene carries him out.

“Yes, _minou,_ I told you, didn’t I? Oh, _ma chérie,_ come now, let’s…”

What exactly Eugene plans to do with Babe now, David doesn’t know, because he carries him out and somehow drags the door mostly shut behind them. Now it’s just him and Joe, and David hadn’t realised how much he wanted there to just be the two of them until he got it.

Joe’s still going on about how insufficient his company has apparently been, but there’s absolutely no bite to it — “’n none of ‘em speak German, and they keep calling each other all this bullshit, and they’re soft and jangly—“

“Sorry,” is the first thing David says in response, pressing the side of his face to Joe’s neck and wrapping both his arms around his boyfriend. “Didn’t mean to be away too long from you, _Liebling,_ but I’m here n—“

Joe’s head goes up from where it’s been buried in the crook of David’s neck, blue eyes nailing him in place instead. “You. You told Gene. About… About that.”

It takes David a moment to catch on, because Joe’s eyes aren’t just blue. They’re wide and vulnerable and scared and hopeful, more open than David has ever really seen them be. It’s captivating, making something small and aching settle at the top of his stomach. He nods.

“Yeah, I did,” David says, moving both of his hands to cup Joe’s face, running his thumbs over his high cheekbones. “In case… You needed to be reminded that I’m here, and I love you, and that I would come back to get you.”

“Oh,” is all Joe responds, and for a few moments they just breathe. “Were you…”

“I was,” David says when it doesn’t seem like Joe’s going to continue. “I was thinking about you the whole time, _liebling_. Wondering if you were happy, when it’d be time for me to come get you, how much I missed you. Yeah, I did, I missed you a lot.”

Joe blinks at him, and then looks down between them, like he’s trying to hide the wet clumps in his eyelashes. “You aren’t— David, you weren’t gonna…”

“What, Joe? I wasn’t gonna what?”

“Be mad at me? Or think— fuck, I’m such a mess, David, I’m sorry, I don’t mean—“

Well, David’s not gonna sit around and listen to this bullshit, that’s for sure. Tightening his hold on Joe’s face, he tilts his head up to press a kiss to the boy’s trembling lips. Joe sighs, but is still wound up so tight David’s starting to worry he’s gonna give himself a headache.

“Of course not,” Web mumbles against his lips, pressing their foreheads together, all but forcing them to breathe the same air. “Joe, in what world… You’re not a mess. I don’t think you are, and I never will. I don’t think I would have it in me to be angry even if I wanted to, which I don’t, because you’re perfect. You’re perfect, and what you did was brave—“

For some reason, that’s where the dam bursts, Joe sobbing into their shared space, one hand pressed against his mouth. David breathes out, slow and heavy, feeling his heart ache over this fucking man that he loves so fucking much. All he wants is to bundle Joe up, to hide them both in Babe and Eugene’s mess of a bed until the world forgets about them and Joe’s just free to live his life in peace.

But not right now, because he needs them to go the final stretch here, for Joe to tell him— “Joe,” he says, running one hand down his back, holding them close together. “Joseph, Lieb, _mein Liebste, Liebling, mein geliebter Schatz_ , please.”

Joe’s starting to cry proper now, under this stream of nonsense, trying to press his face down but being forced to keep it up under David’s grip. And _seriously, what the fuck did Babe and Eugene even do to get this result?_

“Please,” David says, trying to put everything he has into it, “Joe, please, tell me what’s going on? Whatever it is, I just want to know, with the crying and the hiding and the not letting me in. I love you so much, Joe, please just let me in for one moment? We never have to talk about it again, I promise, I’ll leave it alone forever if you’ll just… This one time.”

It takes a moment, Joe shivering in his lap. David unconsciously reaches for the bathrobe he’d seen earlier, draping the soft, warm fabric over Joe’s shoulders and gently pulling the hood over his head until nobody but David could see him, even if they tried.

Joe takes a few more deep breaths, screws his eyes shut, curls in around himself a little more, and then whispers, “I’m just… Scared, David.”

“Scared of what?” David whispers back, rubbing their foreheads together like he can magically interrupt whatever train is trying to kidnap Joe’s thoughts inside that head of his. “Tell me, please, Joe, what’s scary?”

“I just,” Joe says, “I love you, and I’m a mess, and I worry that you’re gonna look at that and think I’m all… And I know,” he speaks over David when he tries to open his mouth, “I know you’d never do that, I know, alright? But that doesn’t stop me from being afraid anyway. Because you’re this whole… Person, and I’m just… Some guy who cries during sex and then can’t even talk to you about it, like a fucking chick in a ‘don’t give up your virginity too early’ sex ed PSA.”

“Joe, I don’t care,” David says, taking Joe’s face between his hands again, kissing his cheek before pushing their foreheads back together. “I don’t care if you cry, or if you do fucking anything, I just want to make sure you’re happy and feel safe. I don’t care if you’re scared, it’s okay, but it makes my heart ache because you don’t—“

“See, that’s the problem, because now you’re worrying, and I’m just—“ Joe cuts off into a frustrated groan, pressing his bathrobe-covered face into David’s neck, despite Web’s best attempts at holding his head in a place where they can talk properly. “I’m a mess, David.”

For a few moments, David just holds him, trying to figure out what to say to all of this that isn’t gonna end up just arguing with Joe about how he’s feeling. That would get them nowhere, and the amount of shit Joe’s telling him right now makes David feel like the luckiest man on earth for still being allowed to have him.

“I don’t think you’re a mess, Joe. I think you’re brave.” When it doesn’t seem like Joe’s gonna fight him on that, Web continues, “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, and you’re so fucking brave for doing this. Not just this right now, today, but this whole time. Doing us, and letting me see you like that, even though you didn’t want me to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Joe says quietly, his breathing finally starting to even out from that twitchy way you breathe after crying a lot. “I fucking want to, a lot, I just hate that I’m… I hate that I can’t deal with this. Because it’s gotta be scary as fuck, me always dumping that on you and then peacing out from the fucking convo, and just expect you to be fine with it.”

“Well.. It is,” Web says, because he’s not going to lie to him, not now. “I can’t say I’ve been thrilled about it. But I know there are things I can’t fix just by being your boyfriend. It’s not magically gonna go away. And you are talking to me, you are now, aren’t you? We’re here now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Joe says, groaning into David’s shoulder. “My fucking head hurts.”

That makes David laugh a little, and the way Joe tugs annoyedly at his hair is like a small rush of relief. “You want some pain meds? I bet Gene has some.”

“Probably. Hypochondric fuck.”

“He’s not a hypochondriac, he’s a doctor,” David reminds him, earning himself another exasperated groan from his boyfriend. “By the way, were they… Did you have a good time? Was everything okay?”

“‘Did you have a good time,’ what kind of fucking question is that?” Joe snaps, but it lacks any real bite. He leans back, rubbing a hand over his own face, suddenly looking like he’s about to keel over from sheer exhaustion. “Yeah, yeah. It was good. Nice. Fun. I don’t know how to… But it was good. Thanks.”

“What’re you thanking me for?” David says, leaning up to press a soft kiss to Joe’s lips. “I didn’t do any of the work, that was you guys.”

“You made it happen,” Joe mumbles into the kiss, immediately closing his eyes and opening his mouth into it, seemingly happy to let the moment devolve into soft and reassuring kissing for a bit. “You asked them, and you helped me get here, and you packed all that shit.”

“Oh, right,” David remembers, pulling back from the kiss to bump their noses together. “I forgot your pillow, but I brought it now, in case you wanted—“

“My pillow?” Joe asks him, frowning a little. “Web, we fucking share the pillows.”

He can’t help but laugh again at Joe’s confused tone, giving him another quick kiss. “No, Lieb, the one you like to curl up around after we… What?”

Joe is staring at him like he just grew a second head, but it’s so vulnerable that David halts his train of thought immediately. “You— you know about that?”

And oh, this stupid, wonderful, lovely idiot, of course, he has no idea. Web just meets his gaze, steady where Joe’s is kind of trembling around the edges, and nods.

“Yeah, I do. I care about you, Joe. And you never have to tell me things if you don’t want to, but I love you, and I’m… Gonna pay attention, even about the things you can’t talk about. I brought it with me, in case you wanted to… I don’t know. Just in case.”

“Oh,” Joe says. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, _Schatz_. Do you want me to get it? It’s just by the door, in my bag.”

Joe looks over his shoulder, spotting the duffel bag David had dropped on the floor when he came over, and pauses there a moment before turning back. He still looks a little lost, drowning in the soft, fluffy fabric of what really has to be one of Babe’s bathrobes.

“Did you bring a fucking shed with you? The fuck else is in there?” He asks incredulously, but his voice barely goes over a whisper. 

“Just… Stuff,” David shrugs, caught between feeling proud and sheepish. “In case you wanted something that I hadn’t already… You know, some extra socks, that chocolate you like. Brought your onesie.”

“If you think, for a second, that I’m going to walk back out there in a fucking onesie,” Joe says, but his voice is still so quiet that none of his undoubtedly homicidal intent comes across.

“Want me to get it for you?” David asks, and Joe tugs on his hair again.

“Asshole,” he says, kissing Web again, and they stay like that for a while. David rolls them over until he can push Joe into the mattress, covering Joe’s body with his own while pressing kiss after kiss to his soft, swollen lips.

Eventually it peters out, David shifting his weight until his face is pressed into the side of Joe’s, the two of them just breathing in the calm of Babe and Eugene’s bedroom for a while. Joe sneaks his arms round Web’s shoulders, David holding him close, and for a while he thinks they might eventually fall asleep like this until there's a knock on the door.

“Hey guys,” Eugene says on the other side, not coming in. “We’re making dinner, if you’d wanna stay? You’re more than welcome to. We have a big couch.”

David looks at Joe, who looks shy but like he’s trying to be nonchalant as he shrugs with one shoulder.

“Yeah, thank you,” David responds without looking away from Joe’s face, smiling when Joe relaxes a little bit more under him. “Do you guys need any help?”

“No, we’re good. I’m glad you’ll be joining us, it’s gonna be done in about fifteen, just come out whenever you’re ready,” Gene says before his footsteps quietly move back away from the door.

“I love you,” David says, pressing another kiss to Joe’s cheek.

“Love you too,” Joe mumbles back, closing his eyes and hugging David tightly for a few moments. It feels calm, nice, in a way that makes David’s chest ache with how happy it makes every inch of him. 

They leave the room just as Eugene emerges from the kitchen with a pot, joining Babe where he’s buried under a small mountain of duvets and blankets. He crawls out of his burrito as they sit down to give Joe a long, giggly kiss on the mouth, only pulling back when Eugene tugs him off.

Babe compliments Joe on his onesie, and Joe glares back at him under pink cheeks, muttering out a “I thought Gene said that the two of you were making dinner, seems like you weren’t—“

“Play nice, Joseph,” Eugene says at the same time as Babe huffs out, “I helped! Tell him, Gene, I helped, didn’t I?”

“Yes you did,” Gene responds while pulling out more fucking blankets to toss into David’s lap. “He helped me open a jar.”

“I’m the strong one, pretty boy,” Babe giggles, and David doesn’t know what to say to that — both since the food looked all but done when he got there and since it makes Joe shut up immediately, so he just drapes a few blankets over his boyfriend and gratefully takes the bowls of stew Gene hands him. 

They end up staying for most of the night, David and Eugene on opposite sides of the sofa with a lapful of boy each, Joe and Babe slowly relaxing and stretching their legs out until they’re most likely tangled together under their blankets.

Babe puts on some weird reality tv show that makes Joe groan and Eugene smile, and there’s probably some inside joke there, but David doesn’t complain. He’s more than happy to just tug along, Joe nestling in against his chest like it’s the most carefully normal thing in the world.

In the end, none of them end up liking the show, but they still have fun collectively groaning at the participants and their shitty attempts at seeming like reasonable people. By the end of the night, David is gonna call a cab while Joe bitches at him to never ever allow Heffron to choose what they’re watching again, and by the time they leave Joe hasn’t even bothered to take his comfy clothes off.

“Driver can eat my ass if he doesn’t fucking approve,” Joe snaps at him when David asks, and so he leaves Babe’s and Gene’s apartment with a laugh and a very sincere thanks to the both of them.

_Yeah, okay_ , David thinks as he presses Joe up against the wall of the elevator to kiss him silly on the way down, _maybe this was a successful endeavour._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I’m horribly sorry about the title. I am notoriously shit at those but I think this one takes the cake, but I like it so it’s staying skblkhbdshj)
> 
> First of all: Thank you so, so much for reading this, if you did. It's made my summer a fucking... ride, to say the least, lmfao. I hope you enjoyed, and that I've managed to put a coherent story out in the world, if not at least acceptable fanfiction. Whatever your thoughts may be, I swear they are worth gold to me, whether you liked it or not, because you are precious in my mind. <3
> 
> Second: This was written for [gottapenny (dickjokesanddoilies)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickjokesanddoilies) who opened my mind to a) Webgott (joe specifically) and b) poly* AUs back in May, and although you might have had to wait for this a bit longer than perhaps you anticipated, I sincerely hope I have managed to make them justice. And that this Joseph has received at least some of the appreciation, care and love he deserves. 
> 
> Third: idk man I just love these fucking boys so fucking much. Do you, too, care about these boys? Or do you hate them? Or is there something smut-related or non-smut-related that you wanna get off your chest, or maybe just scream at me for not finishing something sjhkklsj? 
> 
> well, [i have a tumblr. Come say hi](https://mariamegale.tumblr.com), talk kink, talk fluff, talk angst, talk what the fuck ever. It'll be fun, we'll have a grand time. I'm not lying in the description, you know, even if my posting schedule is a but of a MESS most of the time.
> 
> More than anything, I just wanna say thank you for reading, and I hope you had, are having, and continue to have a lovely day, when and wherever you may be. Cheers, lovely <3


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